


Nemesis Reborn

by niamhcaldwellwrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Civil War (Marvel), Death, Elemental Magic, Emotional, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanfiction, Fire Powers, Fluff, Goddesses, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Protective Peter Parker, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Teen Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 38,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29469342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niamhcaldwellwrites/pseuds/niamhcaldwellwrites
Summary: After almost dying at the hands of her attacker, Amy is thrust into the world of super hero's and villains.With powers she hardly understands, let alone can control, Amy is bought under Tony's supervision, and given a new life. Yet, despite help from Peter Parker, Amy can't shake the ethereal voice that haunts her dreams and seeks vengeance on those who have wronged her. Constantly torn between trying to be better and being haunted by her past, can Amy learn to love and trust again?Set after Age of Ultron, just before Civil War. Slightly altered timeline to begin with. Will journey from Civil War to Endgame. Will not explore the Spider Man films.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Origins

As a child, I always dreamt I would be the deciding factor when the world was hanging in the balance. I never imagined that silly, childish dream would come true.

The sky was a pallid grey; all cloud and no sun, with the threat of rain heavy in the late August afternoon. It had been a relentless summer in Manhattan, sweltering humidity without even a sprinkling of rain. Parched, sun bleached sidewalks and panting tourists with sweat stained “I heart NYC” t shirts and drooping foam fingers. Now though summer was coming to an end, the chill of Autumn threatening to chase off the lazy days I had taken for granted.

I lounged in the window of our apartment; calculus book left abandoned on the fire escape. I scrolled through my Instagram, barely paid attention to the posts as they whizzed by. It was too sticky to do anything, as it had been all summer long. The sounds of Manhattan still buzzed in the distance, but the blares of horns and the shouts of angry commuters seemed duller than usual.

“Really Amy, anyone would think you a cat,” my mother scolded, frowned at my crop top.

“And you should really think about what you wear,” she continued.

I let my gaze slip from my phone to give her a raised brow. My mother was conservative to say the least. A woman who had never blossomed, she had always kept herself covered out of fear or insecurity. Even now in the cloying heat she wore a linen skirt that swayed at her ankles and a long-striped shirt. I had never felt that same sense of shame, having been graced with what I could only assume was the good looks of my father’s side of the family, not that I had ever met him. I had always been comfortable in the lines of my body, the muscles that being an ice skater had given me. My mother was too tall, spindly, her arms hung awkwardly at her sides, all elbows and shoulders.

“I did think about it, that’s why I scoured every thrift store in a seven-block radius for a crochet halter in this specific shade of orange,” I replied with a smile.

She folded her arms, tilted her head at me. I sighed, sat up. It never paid to annoy my mother.

“Are you going to Brad’s party tonight?” Ellen asked as she emerged from her room, a devious smirk on her face.

My cheeks flushed red as my mothers eyes widened.

“Whose Brad? Have I heard of Brad before?” My mother inquired.

I shot Ellen a damning glance, to which she stuck her tongue out. Ellen and I were very similar in appearance; dark raven hair, olive skin, sharp cheek bones. She had always been prettier than me, clearly having taken more after my father, and now she looked at me with the mesmerizing blue eyes I had always resented her for.

“It’s no big deal mom,” I began as I collected my books from the fire escape.

My mother fussed around me, leant close as if she could glean the information from my thoughts.

“It is a big deal, Amy. I don’t want you out late into the night getting into all sorts of trouble.” Her voice was rising in pitch as I struggled to hide the redness of my face.

“Brad’s on the football team. He’s older,” Ellen continued, and I turned to glare at her.

“Shut up!” I hissed.

Our mother looked fit to burst, the vein in her forehead pulsed as she looked at me with wild eyes.

“Older! How much older?” she demanded.

I focused on straightening the stack of books in my arms, toyed with the corner of the cover. Brad and I had been talking all summer, and I’d managed to keep our late-night calls clandestine. My mother was not a fan of boys; an advocate of celibacy until marriage, or of being a spinster forever. I hadn’t told her of Brad for this exact reason; she always overreacted.

“Just a year… or four…” I winced as her eyes bulged.

“Four… Four years! Amy Louise Williams, you are fifth teen years old. I will not see you dating a nineteen-year-old! You are grounded!” she shouted with a stamp of her foot.

For a moment I stared at her, mouth hung open in shock. Then, like a crash of a wave, rage smacked me back to life.

“That’s not fair! I’ve been looking forward to this all summer, that’s not fair!” I shouted back, but my mother was as immovable as stone.

Ellen tittered on the sofa, and I took a step towards her, ready to give her a swift smack. I balled my fists, thought better of it. It would only make my punishment worst. I fixed my mother with a scowl so spiteful I was sure it could have cut her in two.

“I hate you,” I hissed, before I turned and stamped to my room.

I slammed the door behind me for good measure, threw my books on the desk with enough force to make my makeup brush holder topple over. I let out a frustrated grunt, sat down on the bed, stared at the wall. My phone buzzed, and I answered it.

“I’ve been calling you for, like, forever!” Willow said down the phone, clearly impatient.

“My mom won’t let me come tonight,” I huffed, my heart still beating hard from the anger.

“What? So? Come anyway, I’ll swing by at eight,” she countered.

I gnawed on my thumb as I mulled the possibility over. I had never disobeyed my mother like that, I knew how angry she’d be, but it just wasn’t fair.

“You have to come! I heard from Dani that she heard from Tom that Brad told him he was really excited to see you tonight,” she pushed when I didn’t answer.

My cheeks flushed anew as I thought of him, of the sweep of his blond hair and the rose tattoo on his hands. I felt my resolve dissipate, found myself nodding.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you at eight,”

~

We took two trains out to Greek row. It had been a feat shimmying down my fire escape in my too short denim skirt, but Willow had caught me with all the grace and dignity she could muster. She looked beautiful as always, clay skin dewy under the blinking lamplights. She wore a similar cropped crochet halter top as me, although hers was pink and slightly more frayed, and a pair of levi’s that she’d acid washed herself. Her hair fell around her shoulders in loose coils, and as she swigged from the bottle of bramble gin her brother had bought for her, she spluttered.

“You know which house is his?” she asked, offered me the bottle.

I took a sip, surprised at how smooth it was. The street was littered with Greek fraternities and sororities, each building looking near identical. Yet as we walked, it became evident which on Brad lived at.

The house was lit up like Christmas at Rockefeller. Music thrummed through the ground at our feet, and a string of partygoers entered through the front door, which was flung wide open. Willow and I exchanged a glance; we’d never been to a college party. I couldn’t help but feel unbelievably young in that moment; naïve and childish and silly. I’d only ever met Brad once, at Willow’s house. Her brother Jake and him were on the same football team, and they’d been about to head out for practice. I’d been in the kitchen, chugging orange juice to ward off the unbearable heat of summer. We’d got to talking about school; he’d graduated from St. Peter’s last summer, and was going into his second year at college. I’d told him I ran track, and he said we’d have to go for a run sometime. We’d exchanged numbers, and texted ever since. Now I couldn’t imagine talking to him in person.

I realised I’d stopped walking. Willow eyed me, offered me the gin again.

“Come on. Let’s do this,” she encouraged, and I took a large swig before I nodded.

“Alright,”

We pushed our way into the large house; there were people everywhere. People drinking, people talking, people dancing. It was loud and close and overwhelming. Someone bumped into me, spilled something on my shoe. The guy turned, gave me a crooked smile and a wink.

“Sup pretty girl,” he crooned, the stench of beer on his breath.

“Leave her be, Jer,” Brad placed a hand on Jer’s shoulder, pulled him away from us.

He was as handsome as I remembered, his hair swept back to show off his dazzling azure eyes. Tattoo’s crept up his bare arms; roses and crosses and clockfaces. He smiled down at me, put a hand on my waist.

“Glad you could come,” he said in a low voice, his mouth close to my ear.

I felt my stomach flip as I looked up at him.

“I’m here too,” Willow gave a wave, but Brad didn’t seem to register her.

“Shall we get a drink?” he asked, gestured to the kegs at the centre of the living room.

I nodded wordlessly, afraid if I spoke I’d sound stupid or flustered. He whisked me to the kegs, poured me a cup. A smash turned my attention away for a moment, and I looked to see a group of boys surfing down the stairs on an ironing board. When I turned back to Brad, I saw him push something plastic back into his pocket, but I took no mind. He offered me the drink, and I took it gladly.

“Let’s dance for a bit, then I want to show you something,” he smiled.

I nodded as I drank the beer, swallowed mouthful after mouthful to distract myself from the raging hammering of my heart.

We danced for a while, until the songs began to bleed together, and the room began to spin. My head felt light, the flash of lights like cars on a freeway. I didn’t think I’d drank much, but suddenly I felt drunker than I ever had. I felt Brad’s hand on my waist, but I could barely see.

“Come on, let me take you outside,” he said, his voice far off.

I nodded, tried to blink my vision clear. He lead me out into the back garden, further, until we reached a gate. As he unlocked it I leant against the dark fence, tried to take a breath and steady myself. My limbs felt heavy, my head swam like bread in soup. The gate swung open, and Brad guided me onwards. There was a small line of trees, and then a lake, dark and almost silver under the moonlight. There was a dock, boats tied to the dark wood posts, and an open-air pavilion at the end of the pier. We walked across the pier, the dull sound of water lapping at the boats made me feel almost seasick. As we stopped in the pavilion I fell to my knees, unable to stand. There was rustling, and laughter, and I blinked, tried to focus. I thought I saw figures on the dock, the flash of a phone torch, but they blurred and wavered like the water underneath me. Brad knelt beside me, tilted my face up to kiss me. His lips were hot and desperate, too rough, too close. I tried to pull back, but his hand was firm on the nape of my neck. I felt like I was spinning, like everything was spinning, like the pavilion would crumble and I would fall into the lake and beyond. His hands were on my thighs, he was pushing my skirt up. I tried to struggle, grumbled as the chill of the night rose gooseflesh on my legs. Brad ignored me, and the pitter patter of rain joined the snickers of the onlookers.

“No,” I mumbled as he dragged my underwear down.

“She doesn’t want it, Brad. Look at the pretty girl struggle,” a voice called, teasing.

Brad laughed too, and I felt as if my heart was about to cleave in two. I tried to stop him, pushed him, my limbs as heavy as wet sand. I felt his fingers between my legs, the rough probing of impatience and greed. He lowered his own trousers, and in a moment of clarity my vision seemed to clear, and I could see clearly. His friends were gathered on the pier, they were laughing, they were filming. My clothes were strewn on the decking, my shoes still on. I was on my stomach; Brad was moving behind me. He pulled my hips up, pulled me onto my knees for better access. There was a whoop from the onlookers as he readied to rape me. As my vision began to cloud again, I mustered the last of my strength to pull forward. I lurched up, managed to half clamber to my feet. Brad’s hand shot out, caught my ankle, and I fell, rolled. There was a chorus of shouts as I rolled over, and I felt the decking go from underneath me.

I hit the water with a smack. The world around me dissolved into coldness and darkness. I tried to swim, tried to move, but my limbs would not obey. My vision wavered as whatever Brad had put in my drink tried to claim me again. I saw dimly that there were figures standing on the edge of the pier, I saw the toes of their shoes, I saw their shadows. I could just heard the muffle of voices, of shouts. I waited for one of them to jump in after me, to save me, but as my lungs began to burn I watched their shadows retreat.

I laid weightless and unmoving in the water, almost comforted by its constant pressure. I stared up at the moon as the water rippled under the rain, and I came to terms with my own death. As I began to sink lower, as the throbbing of my lungs became too much to bare and the last grasps of my consciousness fled, I felt as if a warm hand wrapped around my heart. I felt as if something hot and burning was laid over me, and as my eyes closed I felt a fire burn within that I couldn’t explain, and the face of an ethereal woman greeted me in the darkness.


	2. Awakening

I woke with the memory of water still clogging my lungs. I gasped for breath, tried to sit up, but wires tugged at my skin and made me hiss in pain. I opened my eyes, blinked through the bleariness at the blue walls around me. There was no window, only a threadbare chair in the corner, and a heart monitor to my side. An IV was pushed into the crook of my elbow, and I looked up at the bag of saline in confusion. The beeping of the monitor assured me I was alive, assure me I hadn’t died, but I couldn’t comprehend it. I had died. I had drowned.

There was voices, faint and mumbling and seemingly everywhere. I fumbled for the call button in the sheets, jammed it repeatedly with my thumb. A nurse emerged dressed in lilac scrubs, blond hair pulled from her face in a ponytail. She gave me a sweet smile.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” she asked kindly.

_Stupid drunk kid, why do I always get the drinkers?_

I looked around for the source of the voice, tried to locate where it had come from, but the nurse stood alone, her lips unmoving.

“I wasn’t drunk,” I said to defend myself from the invisible force.

The nurse stood beside me, checked my saline drip.

“Of course not,” she replied.

_Liar._

With shock I realised that the voice was hers, and yet her lips did not move. She looked me over, took the clipboard from the bottom of the bed and inspected it.

“I’m not lying. A guy… he slipped me something,” I flinched from the painful memory.

The nurse nodded again, barely paid me attention.

_And you probably made it all too easy._

I balled my fists, anger as all consuming as the lake I’d almost died in rushed to swallow me whole.

“He tried to rape me. He took me out to the lake, his friends were recording me, and when I fell in the water they left me to die.” As I said the words the room began to shake.

The nurse clung to the bedframe, looked at the light as it tilted dangerously above our heads. The rumbling intensified, shook the room so violently that the chair tipped over, that my bed began to move. The saline bag beside me popped, doused me in freezing liquid. I jumped from the shock, and the room stopped shaking. The nurse got her bearings, looked around wildly.

“What a tremor!” she exclaimed, tried to play it off as if she weren’t frightened, but I could feel the fear radiating from her like heat.

“Let me go fetch the doctor,” she said, before she hurried off.

My nostrils flared as I huffed out a breath. I felt angry and upset and hurt. I felt used and degraded and alone. A tear ran down my cheek without my permission, and I slammed my soaked fist into the sheets. As I did so, the saline rose, perfect pearl droplets suspended above my arm, unaffected by the pull of gravity. My arm, once soaked, was now completely dry. I stared at the drops incapable of forming any rational thought. I turned my palm up, as if I might catch one, and the water moved with the gesture, pulsed as if it lived.

A gasp and the clang of a clipboard hitting the ground distracted me, and the saline fell back to soak my arm once more. It was too late thought. The nurse stared at me, her face ashen white. Her fingers trembled, and as I met her eyes I felt the dark black shards of her fear and resentment.

“You’re one of those… those freaks!” she shouted, her lip quivered as she took a step back.

“No!” I reached out towards her, but she held up her hands to protect her face as if I would strike her.

“Don’t use your demon powers on me. Security!” she moved out of the room, and after a moment two men walked in.

One was elder, balding and chubby, the other was only a few years older than me, maybe twenty. As he approached his slate grey eyes flicked over me as if I were some wild animal, searching for whatever it was that made me a ‘freak’. I wanted to plead with him, to beg him to let me go, to tell him that she was wrong, that I wasn’t a freak, and yet I couldn’t make my lips moved. I’d felt the earth quake under my wrath, seen the water suspended by my misery. I’d heard her thoughts and felt her fears.

“Quickly boy, before she gets ya,” the elder one teased, although he hung back a bit.

 _I wonder what the freak can do_ – the elder thought, eyed me suspiciously as the younger guard handcuffed my hand to the bed railing.

 _She doesn’t look like a freak_ – The younger thought as he moved to my other hand.

“What are freaks suppose to look like?” I spat, offended.

The younger flinched, shied away as he snapped the other handcuff closed. He slunk behind his superior, keys in hand, refused to meet my eyes.

“Like the Hulk,” the elder replied, then burst into laughter as he left the room.

The younger hung back, as if waiting from something to happen. I bared my teeth at him, and he jumped, darted from the room. A moment of triumph was quickly swept away by shame and confusion. What had happened to me? What had given me these gifts?

I tried to wriggle free of the handcuffs, half hoped I had developed super strength, but my wrists strained against the metal, still weak. I let out a breath, sunk back into the flat pillow of the hospital bed. I thought of my mother, and of Ellen, and wondered if they were worried. Had the hospital told them I was here? No, they couldn’t have, I had no identification. Then they had no idea where I was, which I suppose was worse. I thought about Willow, whether she was okay. Had they gone back for her when they’d failed with me? Dread settled into my stomach like lead, and I wriggled, thrashed against my restraints until the skin of my wrist was rubbed raw and bleeding.

After a while I laid still and unmoving. There wasn’t anything for me to do now. The nurse would call someone and I would be taken away, flown to some rich billionaire would train me to kill, or a scientist would take my blood and try to make more of me. Those with powers, those like Captain America, Scarlet Witch, they never got to rest, but at least they were free. It had become commonplace to find those with powers, usually young children, whisked away and never seen again. Taken to become a weapon. I laid and listened, tried to pick out what voices were spoken and what voices came from within. There was a distinction, although very slight. Spoken words were harsh, loud, they changed and rose and fell. Thoughts were constant, soft, a caress, a whisper on the wind no matter what emotion lay behind it. I found I could feel people too, feel something of what they felt. As people walked past my door I began to discern what each pattern meant. Blue, soft, rippling; calm, focused, thoughtful. Black, jagged, ugly; scared, ugly feelings of hatred and pain. Yellow, bouncing, flashing; sometimes happy or excited, sometimes confused or anxious. I could feel a whole new rainbow and things, a whose spectrum of emotion and thought that was both wonderful and terrifying.

My eyes shot open as I felt someone approach. Blue, but also red; focused and confident. I sat up as I heard mumbled voices, questions, and then my room number. They were coming to take me now, to whisk me on a plane. I would never see Ellen again, or my mother. I would probably never see Manhattan either. I supressed the tears that threatened to stain my cheeks; I would not let them see me crumble.

When the man in question walked through the door, I found myself at a loss. Tony Stark stood before me, glasses poised on his nose. He looked as if he’d come from a business meeting, wearing a smart suit and watch. Up close I could see the peppered grey of his beard, the fine lines of his face that weren’t visible through a TV screen. Still, the Arc Reactor at the centre of his chest glowed as bright and brilliant as a million stars, and when he looked down and me I couldn’t help but feel like I was in the presence of a God.

“So. You’re it.” He said.

I looked back at him, unsure what he wanted me to say. Happy Hogan emerged behind him, keys in hand, and Tony waited for my response. He raised a brow, gestured for me to speak.

“I umm…” I went to reach out my hand, felt like I needed to offer him a formal shake, but the handcuffs smacked against the railing with a ding.

“Take this off her will you?” Tony asked Happy without looking at him.

Happy nodded, although there was slight hesitation in his eyes. He emitted grey, dull and lifeless, as if he weren’t sure yet how to feel. He unlocked the handcuffs, and I rubbed my wrists, looked at the pair in anticipation. This was the last thing I had expected.

“The nurse said you can control water, is that right?” Stark pushed on, took the clipboard at the foot of my bed and inspected it.

“I don’t… I don’t know. It just sort of happened,” I replied, annoyed at how scared I sounded.

He nodded thoughtfully, looked at the clipboard, then looked at me.

“Say’s here they found you on the shore of a lake,” he gestured at the forms, and I nodded.

“I drowned.” I replied stupidly.

Tony smiled, nodded thoughtfully. There was a glint in his eyes, the glint of an inventor, of an engineer who saw potential in the scraps of a broken carcass. He put the clipboard back with a snap.

“And yet you live,” he countered.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure why I was alive, or who dragged me from the lake. I remembered a face, the face of a woman so ethereal, so beautiful that she couldn’t possibly be read. There had been a glint in her eyes, the flash of revenge. Tony turned to Happy.

“Pull the car around, make sure you call a meeting at the compound. Get Pepper to grab some clothes, size…” he turned around, gave me the once over, and then turned back to Happy as if I weren’t even there.

“Size 8. Prep a room too.” With that Happy disappeared, left me alone with Tony, who was busy on his phone.

My mouth felt dry. I blinked at the back of his head, unsure what all of this meant. Was I going home? No, he’d said prepare a room. I wasn’t going home. Would I ever? I gnawed on my thumb as I tried to process what was going on.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I asked after a long silence.

Tony turned, pushed his phone back into his pocket. He shucked off his suit jacket, held it out to me.

“I’m taking you to the Avengers compound,” he said it so simply, as if it were obvious.

I nodded.

“Okay, and then?” I asked as I took his jacket.

He fixed me with a look, and behind his eyes I heard a tirade of thoughts, too many to focus on just one. There was sympathy, and excitement, and planning, but no malice, nothing to be afraid of. I suppose it was better to trust in him, to be protected by him, than to reject his help and be taken by someone else.

“And then we see if you have what it take to become an Avenger,”


	3. Beginnings

The ride to the estate was long. We pulled out of the city, through the suburbs. Happy drove in silence, Tony sat to my right tapping away, making phone calls and organising meetings. I sat huddled in my seat, knees tucked up to my chest, still in my hospital gown. I hadn’t had a chance to look at myself fully, but there were changes in me that I couldn’t miss. My hair, once as dark as a ravens feathers, shone white as the froth of an approaching wave. The skin of my fingers was bruised purple and black from the water, and there were scrapes on my knees and calves from my tussle with Brad. I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory, tried to push it down somewhere it could never be touched again.

The car slowed as we neared the gates of the compound, and I blinked up at the sleek gates in wonder. Not many had the privilege of seeing beyond these walls, and I couldn’t help but feel awestruck as the gates parted to reveal the secrets within. Ground stretched for acres, rolling green sheets of grass that swayed in the gentle breeze. The compound was huge, all tall glass windows and dark walls. There were other cars pulled up to the doors, and I felt the hair on my arms rise as I realised I was about to meet the other Avengers. My pulse quickened as Happy slowed the car, my palms slick as the engine cut out. Tony looked up for the first time since we’d left the hospital, baffled that we’d arrived. He looked over at me, and I felt his aura shift from concentration to pity, maybe even concern. He met Happy’s eyes in the rear view, and they exchanged a look that I didn’t quite understand.

“Happy will take you up to get changed,” he said after a long pause.

I nodded, opened the car door, suddenly desperate for air. I couldn’t get the feelings of water out of my lungs, I felt I was choking on it, swallowing great mouthfuls. I took as deep a breath as I could, the air fresher than any I had breathed in the city. The taste of lake water and the smell of dirt hung around me like heavy curtains, thick and suffocating. Happy waited, a few paces away, as I braced myself against the car door. I faked a smile, straightened up. It didn’t pay to be weak, and I refused to accept the blatant pity that radiated from his aura.

“I’m fine,” I reassured.

 _You don’t look fine –_ He thought, but nonetheless he nodded and gestured me inside.

It was cool inside the compound, tidy and shining and bright. I found myself squinting through the brightness of the windows, stumbled up the steps after Happy as the sound of voices floated through the air.

_I wonder what Tony has in store._

_I wish it weren’t so cold._

_Where is that tiny man?_

Their thoughts were loud and mumbled, a buzz of words that made my head spin. As Happy lead me to my new room, I felt a longing for normalcy. I missed my tiny room, I missed Ellen’s annoying smirks.

The room was larger than I had expected. It reminded me of a Hilton suite; the bed was large, the wallpaper neutral, the carpets grey. It didn’t look lived in, it looked ephemeral. A short term fix. There was a bathroom attached with a large walk in shower and deep basin. There was a large mirror too, but I avoided it. I was scared to see myself.

“There should be some clothes in the closet. If you need something, let me know,” he said, lingered in the doorway.

“Thank you,” I replied, nodded that he could leave.

I sensed he wanted to say something more, to offer me some sort of comfort, but he didn’t. He left me alone, and I stood in my new room, feeling lost and small. I walked to the closet, looked at the clothes within. To the right were gowns; fine dresses to be worn to ceremonies, to parties. To the left were dark training clothes, trousers and shirts. I traced my finger across the waxed material of a jumper, unsure I would ever feel myself in any of these clothes. I pulled a midnight thick knit jumper from the fray, a pair of black training trousers, and headed towards the bathroom. I dropped the clothes onto the floor, turned and faced the mirror. At first I didn’t recognise myself. My hair fell in white waves, striking against my olive skin. My lips were deathly pale, tinted blue at the edges. My eyes were no longer green, but a startling gold. They shone like amber crystals, molten and burning. There was dirt, the scum of the lake, plastered on my skin. I turned to the shower, turned it on, desperate to wash off what had happened to me. I stepped under the burning water, tilted my head back, scrubbed at my skin desperately. Dirt pooled at my feet, and when I closed my eyes I saw her again, the beautiful woman who had come to me in the lake. I saw her face, the lines of her jaw, and I thought I recognised her, recognised the angular beauty there. Then, she disappeared and the water that hit my face suddenly seemed all around me, and I was drowning again.

I stumbled out of the shower, braced my hands against the basin, tried to catch my breath. The water on my skin vibrated, pulsed and shook as I struggled to breath. It moved down my arms, up my back, pooled in my hands like balls of glass. I hated how naïve I had been, hated how much I had trusted Brad, hated how desperate I had been for his love, for his attention. The water hardened in my hands like ice, and as I felt my anger rise I clenched my fingers into fists, and the ice shattered. Shards scattered as sharp as knives, lodged into the wall and floor. One hit the mirror, and it splintered, cracked wide like a spider’s web. I looked at myself in the fragments and tried to recognise the terrifying expression on my face.

I turned from myself, pulled on my new clothes. I no longer felt cold, but the dampness of my hair made me uncomfortable. A knock at the door made me jump, and I rushed to open it. Happy stood waiting, hands in his pockets.

“Tony asked me to bring you downstairs. Do you want something to eat? I know hospital food is terrible,” he said, a little more talkative now.

I couldn’t blame him for being wary before, I’d looked like a witch dragged from the depths of hell. I managed a smile as I put on some trainers from the wardrobe, pushed my wet hair off of my face. It kept surprising me, when I’d catch a glimpse of my now white hair. It didn’t feel real.

“Yes please. Maybe a grilled cheese?” I asked a little tentatively.

Happy gave a laugh, nodded.

“Alright. You sure that’s it?” he asked.

I didn’t really know what else to ask for. My mother had never been well off, we’d never had anything luxurious, and I’d never asked for anything. I shook my head.

“No thank you,” I replied.

“You’re very polite,” he pointed out as we walked down a set of stairs.

_Unlink Tony._

His thought made me smile, but I didn’t have the chance to continue our conversation. Happy pushed open a door, and a meeting room stood before us. There was a wall made entirely from glass, facing the sprawling grass beyond. There were screens for presentations, a large table centre stage. Hero’s I’d only ever seen on TV crowded the room, made it feel smaller than it was. Thor stood at the edge of the table, hands braced against the back of a chair. Natasha, Wanda, Clint and Steve sat at the table, while Vision hovered just to the right, near the windows. Tony and Bruce stood by the screen, examining some specs they’d projected and talking lowly. At the sound of our arrival all eyes turned to me, and the blood drained from my face. Tony jumped to action, came to stand beside me.

“So, this is Amy,” he said.

There was silence. They all looked at me like I was about to explode.

“She’s a child, Tony,” Steve said, looked upon Tony with a mix of anger and disappointment.

 _She looks twelve_ – This was Natasha, and I felt myself bristle.

“I’m fifteen,” I stated tersely, and Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“I had already slaughtered my first beast by the time I was her age. I say allow the child a quest,” Thor replied, gave me a grin.

“We don’t have a habit of sending children to their deaths in this world,” Clint retorted, and Wanda scoffed.

“That’s not strictly true,” she said.

“Look,” Tony held up a hand to command their attention.

“We won’t be around forever, who’s going to protect the planet once we’re old and grey?” He asked.

“She’s fifteen,” Natasha stated again.

“And how old were you when you first killed?” Tony asked.

I felt her bristle, and I caught the glimpse of a memory, the flash of a ballet studio, of guns and girls barely out of puberty. The memory was cold and jagged, and I was glad when she pushed it down.

“I didn’t have the same choice Amy does,” Natasha said through her teeth.

“What exactly can you do?” Bruce directed this to me, and I saw the curiosity in his eyes.

Now everyone really was looking at me. My cheeks burnt red as I fiddled with the end of my sleeve.

“I umm… I don’t really know? I can hear thoughts, and I can sort of control water. It’s all very… new.” I struggled to find the words.

“How new?” Steve asked.

“Like… this morning new. Something happened to me last night…” I trailed off as the feel of Brad’s hands on me resurfaced, and I shivered.

I saw a change in Natasha then, and I felt a cool white wave of understanding flood from her mind. She understood my reaction, understood from experience. Her face softened then.

“All we know is that she generated a 4.5 level localised earthquake. It radiated five miles from the hospital. With training, with us, we can help her,” Tony reasoned.

Steve still didn’t look convinced. I felt as if I were some controversial poll, something to vote over.

“And what about her childhood? What about being normal?” Steve asked.

Tony opened his mouth to come back with something, but the door opened, and in emerged a boy, looking flustered. He had deep brown hair and kind chocolate eyes,

“I’m sorry I’m late, I-” he broke off when he saw me, a little taken aback.

_Wow. Pretty_

I averted my gaze, my cheeks flushed red. He cleared his throat, moved further into the room. T clapped him on the back, gave him a hearty grin.

“Glad you finally made it Peter. This is Amy,” Tony gestured to me, and Peter nodded at me.

“Hi,” he responded.

I nodded back, too nervous to speak. I didn’t recognise him, I kept catching glimpses of his face, tried to figure out who he was.

“This is the answer to normalcy,” Tony gestured to Peter like he was the answer sheet to a quiz.

“I’m the what?” Peter asked.

“What does he have to do with this?” Steve asked.

“When she’s ready, when she’s trained, when she can control her new powers, she’ll go to Pete’s school, live a normal life,” Tony said, and I felt myself bristle.

“So I stay locked up here?” I asked, hands balled at my sides.

I felt the ground beneath my feet shake, a tremor so small I barely even registered it.

“And then… what? When I’m trained, you use me to put out fires around the world?” The ground shook, the glasses of water on the table rattled.

“Amy, calm down,” Steve said as he rose to stand.

I couldn’t stop it. All I could feel was rage, the rage of being betrayed, the rage of being trapped. I had never asked for this, never wanted this, and now I had no choice. Tears burnt behind my eyes as the glasses smashed, the water drawn to me, protecting me. Bruce ducked under the table, Thor tried to move towards me, and Peter stood there, eyes wide.

“Put her down, Tony,” Vision instructed as the trembled of the room rose to a roar, incapacitated any of them.

There was a crackling inside me, like a raging fire, like something ready to burn. I felt it swirl as the water around me hardened into icy shards. My hair rose as if gravity had failed, and I too rose, my feet left the ground and I was as weightless as I had been in the lake. A voice whispered to me, clearer than the thoughts of fear that bombarded my tired brain.

 _Kill them_ she whispered, and I could see her again, a flash of her beautiful face.

I felt a hand on my wrist, and I looked down, each icy shard moved with my gaze, pointed at Peter, who looked up at me with wide eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said, and his words were mirrored in his thoughts.

My breath was coming hard, my chest rose and fell as the immense power raged within me, threatened to spill over the edges and destroy me. I met his eyes and saw then some sort of understanding, that he too had once been overwhelmed with powers he had never asked for, and I felt myself steady. The room fell quiet as my feet touched the ground, and the ice that had formed fell to water and soaked the ground around my feet. I took a breath, felt drained as I turned back to the people I had threatened. I couldn’t meet any of their gazes, but I saw the intrigue on Tony’s face.

“You’re right. We have to help her,” Steve admitted after a few moments of silence.

“Can we trust her after that?” Bruce said as he emerged from under the table.

I realised Peter’s hand was still on my wrist, and I pulled myself free, rubbed the spot his fingers had been as I took a step forward.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t. I… I’ll train. I’ll do my best. Please, just help me,” I said.

Some were still unconvinced. Bruce, Vision, even Steve. Yet there was no objection from the group as Tony put a hand on my shoulder, gave me a smile.

“We’ll help you kid.”


	4. Tests and Training

“Does that hurt?” Bruce asked as he poked something into the heel of my foot.

I winched, nodded.

“And this?” he asked as he squeezed my toe.

I nodded again.

“Well it doesn’t seem like you’ve acquired anything like super strength, or healing, or resistance to pain,” he said, checked another thing off his list.

I nodded thoughtfully, stared up at the ceiling. The lab was a cold, metallic place full of machines and medical equipment. It was also the place I had spent my last few days. I hadn’t seen anyone since that day apart from Bruce, sometimes Tony, but not often. Bruce had drawn multiple vials of blood, taken scan after scan. He’d ruled out more than he’d discovered. Despite my levitating, I couldn’t fly per say. My vision remained the same, as did my sense of smell, taste, my hearing. There was no trace of radiation, or interference with the stones, whatever that meant. We were waiting on a set of bloods and the results of my MRI, and although it was boring, I found it comforting to sit in the silence and relax.

“Has the halfling provided any answers?” Thor moved into the room, half way through a large sandwich.

I sat up, fixed him with a look as he came to stand beside Banner. He grinned at me, gave me a wink as he threw an arm around Bruce.

“Very impressive show,” he complimented, although it didn’t make me feel any better.

Bruce struggled from under his arm, went over to where my MRI was processing.

“Not yet,” Bruce replied as he projected the results onto a screen.

I frowned as Bruce took a step back, shook his head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he whispered.

Thor looked equally confused, bit into his sandwich thoughtfully as I tried to make sense of it. The image was bursting with colour; red, blue, yellow, pink, the same colours I saw when looking at people, when sensing their emotions. There were spots on it that looked like sun marks, bright and blinding.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bruce said in a low voice.

“Care to explain?” I pushed, desperate for answers.

“Your receptors fire faster than humanly possible. Your brain is not only communicating with yourself, but others too. That’s how you heard people’s thoughts,” he said, before a beeping alerted him to the bloods being finished.

Thor raised a brow, gave me a quizzical stare.

“Oh? So what am I thinking then?” he asked, put down his sandwich.

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly very eager to prove my power, and wipe that smile off his face.

_I bet you can’t hear this, I’d bet Asgard you can’t._

I raised a brow, leant back on my hands.

“I’ll expect a coronation any day then,” I countered, and his eyes widened.

He spluttered, rushed to shake his head.

“I did not mean it, I did-”

But he didn’t finish. Bruce stood between us, held something up for Thor to look at. Bruce looked amazed, if a little sceptical, but I knew he’d found something. Thor frowned at the paper, all traced of joking gone.

“It cannot be,” he said.

I leant forward, strained to catch a glimpse of whatever it was on that paper that had them both so confused. They both looked at me then, Thor with his eyes narrowed, Bruce with a hint of excitement.

“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

Bruce passed me the paper, and I looked at it, searched the lines and dots in confusion. There were two blood samples: mine and Thor’s. There were similar gene points, similar data, something that the machine had highlighted. I look back up at them, held the paper back out to Bruce.

“So what, we’re related?” I asked, although I knew that couldn’t be true.

There wasn’t a world where Thor and my mother could have banged.

“Not exactly,” Bruce began, went over to the screen.

Thor still stood in silence, deep in thought, his hand braced on his chin as Bruce projected something on the screen. All I could see was curling lines, golden and silver and bronze swirls that represented my DNA.

“You share points of DNA that don’t quite add up. Not related per say, but connected,” he continued, honed in on a particular set of genes that were the same in us both.

“You share divine blood. The blood that makes him a god, it flows in you too,” Bruce said with a broad smile.

I stared back at him blankly.

“I’m from Manhattan,” I said dumbly, as if that would disprove his years of education.

“Someone bestowed it on you,” Thor said after a moment.

I turned to him, picked at my sleeve nervously.

“Bestowed?” I asked.

“Gave you the power,” he elaborated.

I thought of the woman, the beautiful lady who’d save me in the lake, and realisation dawned on me. It must have shown on my face, because they both leant in, ready to know my secrets.

“When I was… There was this woman, a beautiful woman like no one I had ever seen before,” I said, and Thor nodded.

“A goddess then, although heavens know which one,” he turned to leave, grabbed his discarded sandwich.

“I must contact my father, figure out who could have done this. she must be bought to justice for meddling in Midgard,” he said rather angrily.

“Could she take it back?” the words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Bruce looked at me in confusion, Thor’s shoulders tensed.

“Why would you want to take it back?” Bruce asked.

“I just want to be normal,” I replied as I looked down at my hands.

Hands that wielded powers I didn’t even understand. Hands that could kill. Hands that could be used and wielded by others. Hands that no longer belonged entirely to me.

“I cannot make promises, but if I can locate her, I shall ask her,” Thor said lowly.

“Thank you,” I whispered at his back as he retreated.

He cast me one last look over his shoulder before he was gone.

“I think I’m finished for the day, why don’t you go find Tony,” Bruce said as he turned back to his lab.

I slipped from the table, couldn’t help feeling like a dog being commanded to sit and stay and run. Nevertheless, I slipped on my borrowed shoes and moved from the room, desperate to feel some warmth.

The complex was large and sprawling, all windows and steel, and I found myself wandering aimlessly. The corridors all looked the same, the rooms looked the same, and after a few minutes I realised I was lost. I ran a hand through my hair, squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to think. I missed my small apartment, I missed being able to laze by the window and do nothing. I even missed high school, which was saying something. I wondered if my friends missed me, if they wondered where I had gone. Were my mother and sister worried about me? Were they searching for me?

“Hey, are you okay?” I looked up to see Peter, and I forced a smile.

“Yeah, I’m just… lost,” I gestured to the endless corridor as he moved towards me.

“Yeah I get it. It’s a big place. Where do you wanna go, I’ll take you,” he offered kindly.

“To see Tony. I need to figure out what’s going to happen now,” I replied.

He nodded and gestured for me to follow him.

“It’s pretty cool, what you can do,” he said to fill the silence.

I nodded, squeezed my hands tightly to keep myself grounded.

“Thanks,”

_When did you get the powers? How? Were you born with them? Was it radiation? Poison?_

I flinched at the endlessness of his thoughts, tried to push his voice to the back of my head. Maybe he saw me cringe, because he blushed, and his thoughts went quiet.

“So Tony tells me you’ll be coming to school with me,” he changed the subject, although his face was still red.

“Oh?” I asked.

It hurt to know I couldn’t go back to my normal life, but I couldn’t turn up there looking the way I looked. I pulled at a strand of my hair, looked at its whiteness in disgust.

“Do you think there’s a place I can get hair dye?” I asked.

Peter looked at me, took in the colour of my hair, before he shrugged.

“I guess,” He replied.

_Don’t dye it._

I smiled at the ground as we rounded a corner. A high-ceilinged training room loomed before us. The late afternoon sun streamed through the large windows, fell upon the beams and courses. I joined him in the centre of the room, drawn to the warmth of the windows and the silence. Everywhere else in the compound felt so cold, but this room felt more like home. I looked out to the gardens, the firs that bordered the grass like a wall of their own. I felt Peter watching me, and I turned to him, fixed him with a quizzical gaze.

“I’ve never seen you before,” I began, tried to start off light.

He ducked his head, gave a smile that managed to warm my heart more than the sunshine.

“I usually wear a mask,” he joked.

I squinted at him, tried to think about which Avenger wore a mask, then I realised, and I burst into laughter. He put his hands on his hips, cocked his head at me as I struggled to catch my breath.

“Spiderman? You?” I asked, and he nodded, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

“Well… yeah?” he replied, refused to meet my gaze.

“I just thought… yano… man?” I tried to reason, and he shrugged.

“Well I can’t be Spiderboy,” he muttered.

I smiled as I finally managed to calm my laughter. We fell into silence as he toed the floorboards, awkward and embarrassed.

“So, can you show me?” He asked.

At first I stared at him, a bit confused, but then realisation dawned, and I felt awkward. I didn’t know whether I wanted to show him in case I couldn’t control it, in case I hurt him. Yet it was more than that, I wasn’t even truly sure how to summon it. It had only come up when I was angry, when I was upset. I twisted my hands anxiously, realised they were shaking.

“I don’t really know how,” I replied.

He nodded thoughtfully, looked up at the ceiling.

“Well maybe Friday has something to help,”

“Friday?”

_Hello Peter. Hello Amy. How may I help you today?_

The voice was feminine, it radiated from the walls and below my feet. I stared around, tried to connect the voice to a person, reached out to find any thoughts, but there was nothing.

“Yeah Friday, can you get up some training exercises please?” Peter asked politely.

The room shifted around us; a podium rose from the ground, assault courses, beams and weights came from the walls and floors. A hologram projected around the podium, pulsed gold and yellow.

 _Please, step on the podium so I may see what training exercises will benefit you_ Friday asked.

I hesitated, fingers clasped, knuckles almost white. I didn’t even know what I could do yet, not everything. What if Friday saw something in me that Bruce had missed? What if I had some sort of power that was… evil?

“Amy,” Peter reached out, touched my arm lightly.

I flinched, and I saw something flash across his face as he retracted his hand. It didn’t feel right to be touched, not yet, not after what had happened.

“Alright,” I said as I stepped up onto the podium.

The lights flashed around me, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t feel myself. I’d noticed it throughout the last few days, the way I acted, the way I felt. I used to feel powerful, I used to feel free and strong and like I could do anything. Now I found myself flinching at the slightest noise, the feel of water.

_Amy, I have completed my scan. Would you like me to continue?_

I opened my eyes to find Peter stood in front of me, the gold of the scan reflected in his chocolate eyes. My cheeks were wet, and I scrubbed at the tears, cleared my throat past the pain.

“Yes please,” I replied hoarsely.

Peter looked up at me, and I saw the concern there. I looked away as Friday began.

_I have detected Telepathic and elemental powers. A high tendency towards water, but also earth and fire. I sense little to no air. The best course of action is to focus on one element at a time. Would you like me to recommend?_

I blinked. I suppose earth made sense, with the tremors and the localised earthquakes, but fire? I looked down at my hands in confusion, turned them over, tried to imagine flames.

“So… You’re like the avatar,” Peter grinned.

A laugh spluttered from my lips as I rolled my eyes.

“I guess so,” I replied, pulled a face, tried to imitate some bending moved.

 _Would you like me to recommend?_ Friday pushed again, and I raised a brow at Peter.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He thought for a second, before his eyes lit up.

“Fire was always my favourite element,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Fire please Friday,” I replied.

There was another shift in the room, a small bronze bowl with a flame burning at the centre rose from the floor to my right. I moved to it, drawn to the heat, and I wondered if these powers had always lain dormant in me. I had always loved the heat, loved to sit in the sunshine, and now I felt that same need to be near the flames, to feel them against my skin.

Peter joined me by the bowl, looked into the flames and waited expectantly. I could feel his excitement like a pink wave at the edge of my temple. I reached out, let my fingers linger above the flames. The heat was almost unbearable, and I narrowed my eyes, squinted into the flames as they seemed to brighten. They felt… alive, like they were speaking to me, like they were breathing. My vision blurred as I concentrated, tried to speak back.

“Do you feel anything?” Peter interjected, made my concentration drop.

I blinked, shivered as I turned my gaze on him. My face was hot, there was sweat on my forehead, my hair had sprung around my ears due to the humidity.

“I don’t know. I just feel like they’re alive,” I replied, and Peter’s eyes widened just a fraction.

“Maybe try… touch them?” he offered as much help as he could.

I shot him a frown, but nonetheless I stuck out my hand again, willed the flames to jump to my fingertips. I tried to breathe how they breathed, tried to focus on how they jumped and moved. For a second, I felt something splutter, something push through the nerves of my fingers, and a flame rose as pale as the morning dawn. I stared at it, felt the beat of its life through ever fibre of my being. It seemed so small, so fragile, next to the burning red and orange flames of the bowl. It was a pale yellow, almost translucent, and as I grasped for it, tried to shield it, protect it, it petered out to smoke.

“Did you see that?” I asked, looked up to Peter in excitement.

“It was pretty awesome,” he replied with a smile.

I looked back at my hands, tried to will it to rise again, but nothing would. I frowned, withdrew my hands.

“Yanno, in the show, Aang had to learn how to breathe and stuff,” Peter pointed out, and I gave him a grin.

“So I should take advice from a cartoon I’ve never even watched,” I asked, but Peter just shrugged.

“Well, you should watch it and maybe it’ll help you learn,” he offered as he took a step back from the fire bowl.

His cheeks were flushed red, his hair slightly damp and curled over his temples. He looked cute, the kind of boy you saw on the first day of high school and had a crush on for the whole year. I wanted to trust the softness of his smile, the brightness in his eyes, but when I looked at him, Brad’s face flashed into my memory, and I found myself looking away.

“Too bad I don’t have Netflix anymore,” I replied quietly.

“Well… I do,” he said, and I managed to look back at him.

He was awkward and sweet and as I looked at him, the only thing I got from his mind was softness and kindness. A voice whispered that I shouldn’t trust him, that nothing good came from men, but I pushed it down. I had a power of my own now, I’m sure I could take him.

“You could come over maybe? You don’t have to. Maybe just forget I said anything at all.” He was getting flustered as he turned to walk off, his hand in his hair, his cheeks redder than they had been under the flames.

“I’d like to. If Tony will let me,” I said, and Peter turned, gave me a cheeky smile.

“Oh don’t worry about Mr. Stark. I can handle that,” he reassured, and I ducked my head, smiled.

“I look forward to it,” I smiled.

“Look forward to what?” Tony asked out of nowhere, and I jumped, turned to him as if I’d been caught doing something wrong.

Tony walked over to the podium, swiped his hand over the hologram until it disappeared. He turned back to us when we didn’t speak, hand on his hip, eyebrows raised.

“Is it a secret?” he implored.

“We were just talking about Amy coming to my High School. Could that happen soon, Mr Stark?” Peter asked.

Tony looked between Peter and I, his eyes narrowed, a small smile on his lips.

“Maybe it would be better to wait until Amy has a hold on her powers,” Tony mused

_I don’t want to have to buy a whole school_

“I think she’ll be okay, plus I can take the responsibility,” Peter responded, folded his arms to try to seem confident.

Tony looked him up and down with a quirk of his brow, then his eyes flicked to me. I felt I had to say something, felt I had to back Peter up, but I wasn’t sure. Was I ready to go back to high school? Even the slightest inconvenience could see me bringing the building down, and yet I craved normalcy. I craved to leave everything behind, my powers, this complex, what had happened with Brad. Tony looked doubtful, and I felt words bubble in my throat.

“I can do this,” I said with a strength that seemed to come from nowhere.

“If you think so,” he said without further thought.

I looked to Peter, who looked equally surprised by Tony’s flippant behaviour. When we didn’t move, Tony fixed us with a pointed look.

“Go on, I’ve got things to do. Tell Happy you’re moving in with Parker.” He gestured towards the door, and I felt my happiness falter.

“Moving in with Peter?” I stuttered.

“What about my aunt?” Peter asked.

Tony shrugged, pulled out his phone.

“You want it so bad, you got it. I’ll sort everything out, don’t you worry about that,”

Peter and I shared another glance, his cheeks red, my palms slick with sweat. I swallowed hard and turned as my arms began to shake. I tried to swallow it down, the rising tremors of my power as I thought about living under the same roof as Peter. It was one thing to hang out, it was one thing to talk and train, but it was something different to live only a room from him, to sleep and trust that nothing would happen. My trust felt brittle, broken and unfixable, and I didn’t like the idea of being so vulnerable. Yet, what choice did I have?

My fingers trembled, and when I looked down I saw the water droplets that hung below my palms, pulled from the air. I closed my eyes, willed them to fall as I walked away from the training room. I could hear Peter calling after me, but I didn’t know if I could face him. He’d done nothing to hurt me, and yet I still didn’t know if I could trust him.


	5. The Queensboro Bridge

“Amy.” I looked up from my lap, met Happy’s eyes in the mirror.

“Sorry… I guess I zoned out,” I apologized, looked out the window.

We had arrived, pulled over to the side of the street. Peter and his aunts apartment loomed before me, and I felt the nerved tug at my stomach.

“You don’t have to go in. The complex isn’t so bad,” Happy reasoned, but I knew I had to do this.

If I wanted any element of freedom, if I wanted any individuality, I had to do this. I forced a smile, unclipped my seatbelt.

“I have to come back for training a couple times a week anyway, you’ll barely realise I’m gone,” I said.

He gave a short laugh, but I felt the concern radiate from him.

“Alright. I’ll get your bags,”

I stepped out of the car, shivered in the evening breeze. Autumn was already well on its way, and I felt like I perceived the cold much more now. I walked into the apartment building, up the short flight of stairs as Happy dragged the suitcase of borrowed clothes. One suitcase, such a small amount of possessions, such a small amount of things that I could call mine. Tony had said he would give me an allowance, and I couldn’t wait to go thrifting.

I stopped outside the door, took a deep breath as I stared at the wooden frame. What if his aunt didn’t like me? What if he grew to not like me? We barely knew each other. Happy lingered in the stairwell, leant heavily against the wall.

“You gunna knock? I can set up your stuff here or…” he trailed off with a smile.

I tried to shoot him an angry look, but I couldn’t be angry with him. I raised my hand, and with the movement I saw the flicker of sparks. I swallowed, breathed past the nerves that threatened to literally burn me alive, then knocked.

The door opened almost instantly, and I stared back at a beautiful young woman with dark hair and large rimmed glasses. She smiled a smile that seemed impossibly happy and pulled me into a hug.

“Wow its so great to meet you! Petey has told me so much about you.” She gave me a squeeze as I stood frozen, caught Peter’s eyes over her shoulder.

‘Petey’ I mouthed with a smile, to which he ducked his head.

_So embarrassing_

May pulled back, looked over my shoulder at Happy.

“Hey Happy. Wanna bring those bags in?” she asked, and I saw the flush creep up Happy’s neck.

“Sure May,” he said.

_Was I obvious?_

I snorted at his thoughts, covered my mouth as May shot me a strange look. I steadied myself, bit my lip to stop my smile.

“Thank you for allowing me into your home,” I said as she moved out of the way for Happy.

“No problem kiddo. Do you wanna see your room?” she asked, gestured me inside.

It was a nice apartment; warm, comfortable, not too big, not too small. It felt like home, somewhere to live and love and laugh, and as I moved through the living room I felt my tension relax.

“Yes please. Thank you,” I said, to which she gave Happy a knowing smile.

“Wow she really is polite,” she said, which made Happy scoff.

“Right?” he replied.

I could sense something between them, whether it be unspoken or not, and I saw how much it pained Peter as he threw back his head, groaned. He flopped down on the sofa, eyes drawn to the T.V as May showed me to the bedroom. It was clearly Peters, his stuff was everywhere, but there was a bunk bed. I eyed the top bunk, which had been set up with plain green sheets. I gripped my fingers tightly as I thought about sharing a room with him.

“I know its not ideal but,” she looked over her shoulder at Peter, to make sure he wasn’t listening.

“Petey is a good kid. A bit messy, but a good kid,” she reassured, and I had no option but to nod.

She’d welcomed me into her home, she’d given me a bed, and for that I was grateful. Happy put my suitcase in the corner, and May frowned.

“Is that it?” she asked, looked from me to Happy.

Happy stayed silent, lips pressed tight. I wondered how much she knew, how much they’d told her, and as the silence stretched I realised she probably didn’t know that much.

“I don’t really have much,” I replied.

May put her hands on her hips, tutted.

“Well, we’ll go to target at the weekend,” she whispered, then raised her voice.

“And Peter can get rid of some of this junk to make room,” she shouted as she toed a pile of dirty laundry.

“Yeah okay May,” Peter called back, didn’t draw his eyes from the T.V.

May gave my shoulder a squeeze, smiled.

“Unpack what you have, I’ll order some pizza, okay?” she asked, and I nodded.

Happy gave me one last nod before he went to the kitchen with May. I looked around the room, tried to imagine any of it ever feeling like mine. I sighed, went over to my suitcase. I’d packed the plainer clothes from the collection, a few toiletries, a pair of trainers. I put the trained by the door, folded a few of my clothes into an empty draw.

“Is there anything you want me to get?” Happy said from the doorframe.

I tried to think for a moment, chewed on the inside of my cheek. I itched to get back on the ice, to skate and forget, and I wanted my books, my phone.

“Some books. And my skates. Ice skates,” I said.

Happy quirked a brow, before he shrugged.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, before he departed.

I smiled to myself, moved back into the living room, where Peter was still watching T.V. I perched on the armchair, not comfortable enough yet to share the sofa with him. He cast me a look, smiled.

“You like pineapple on pizza?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“I sense that’s a dangerous question to answer,” I replied.

He shrugged, leant his head back to shout to May.

“She wants pineapple too,” he called, and Aunt May pulled a face.

“You two are strange,” she said, but didn’t argue.

I raised a brow, picked at my sleeve.

“An educated guess,” he shrugged as he took the controller, put on Netflix.

“So are we watching Avatar?” he asked.

“I didn’t know if you were serious,” I replied as he chose Avatar from the recently watched section.

“I never joke about one of the greatest shows of all time,” he said with a serious face, before he smiled.

There was something about the ease of his happiness, the kindness in his eyes, that made me want to trust him. I shifted in the chair, nodded. He smiled, softly, sweetly, before he pushed himself up, retreated to the kitchen. I heard him rustling in the cupboards, and May complained as he moved around her, searching for something. After a minute he came back with popcorn, took the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped himself up as he settled. He looked at me, offered me the bowl, and I took a handful. He stuffed as much as humanly possible into his mouth, chomped down as he pressed play.

“Be prepared to have your emotions ruined,” he warned as the title sequence began to play.

“So Katara is a water bender, but Sokka isn’t?” I asked, frowned at the T.V.

“Yeah that’s right,” Peter answered as he bit into a cold slice of pizza.

May had gone to bed a while ago, but we’d stayed up to keep watching.

“But Zuko and his sister are both firebenders, right?” I asked, to which Peter gave me a sceptical look.

“Yeah…” he said, wary now.

“So why isn’t Sokka a bender?” I asked.

Peter sat up straighter, leant forward as if he were about to give a lecture.

“Because he just isn’t. Not everyone in the family has to be a bender,” he replied.

I frowned, but kept watching. We were on the episode where Katara steals a water bending scroll, and so far I hadn’t learnt much, apart from feeling the push and pull of the water.

“When do we learn how to fire bend?” I asked, and Peter snorted.

“Like… last season,” he replied.

I folded my arms, shifted uncomfortably in the arm chair. My legs were going numb from being curled up. Peter looked over at me, still munching on his pizza. The popcorn bowl laid forgotten on the ground; it had been empty for over an hour.

“You can sit over here if you want. I mean you don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but you can… if you do?” he stumbled over his words, then looked down, frowned at his hands.

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I eyed the spot next to him. The armchair was uncomfortable, and the sofa looked plush and soft. I chewed on my lip, wavered back and forth as I thought about being close to him, before I stood. I stretched, tried to work the kinks out of my shoulder. He scooted up, allowed me some space as I sat. The sofa was warm from his body, and I settled into it, leant back against the cushions. I stretched my legs out, my elbow pressed against his arm as I continued to watch. As the episode ran to its close, I could feel his pulse quickening. I tried to ignore it at first, the humming of his mind, the endless purple chatter that I had began to recognise as nerves. Yet as the next episode flicked on automatically, it became unbearable.

_Am I sitting too close? Should I move? I hope she doesn’t think I’m weird. Am I weird? Damn, I’m weird._

“You’re not weird,” I said as I looked at him.

He flushed, his eyes back on the T.V.

“How does that work? Can you just hear everything?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Not always. I can sense auras, like how people feel. When people’s thoughts are really loud I hear them, but most of the time its like a chatter,” I explained, and he nodded thoughtfully.

He yawned, leant his head against the back of the sofa. I couldn’t help but admire the lines of his jaw, the curl of his hair. My hands tightened in my lap as he looked at me sideways, gave me a lazy smile.

“So have you learnt anything so far?” he asked, gestured to the T.V.

I shrugged. All I’d learnt was that water needed to be felt, that it needed to be pushed and pulled, that it needed harmony. I wasn’t feeling particularly harmonious, so maybe that was why it was so hard to control. Peter leant forward, took the glass of water from the table and held it out to me. I sighed, but I didn’t argue. I held my hand over the lip of the glass, so close I could feel the coolness of the water. I moved my hand back and forth, back and forth, tried to imagine the still surface rippling. I held my breath as the water swayed, moved back and forth like a wave under my instruction. I leant forward, eager to continue. I moved my hand up, pulled the water from the glass and let it hover between us. I balanced it between my hands, stretched it, elongated it, separated it into small balls the size of grapes. I made them dance and flutter and I finally felt at peace, like everything was going to be okay. Yet then, something in the way the light from the T.V danced over the orbs, something in the reflection triggered my memory, and I was on the pavilion again, fuzzy eyed and barely conscious, with Brad’s hands on my waist, and the cold water lapping beneath my knees.

The water dropped and soaked me through. I jumped up as I felt my eyes burn, but not from tears. I caught my reflection in the T.V, the golden glow of my eyes so bright that I could barley distinguish any of my other features. My hands were shaking, and when I looked down I saw the threatening pale sparks of fire threaten to consume me whole.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Peter stood, put his hand on my shoulder, but I flinched away as if he’d burnt me.

I tried to blink past the image of Brad, of his grin, of his laughter, but the ghost of him leered at me out of the darkness. I was shaking, and I felt the ground begin to shake too. No. Not here.

“I need to go,” I managed to say through the chatter of my teeth.

I turned to leave. Peter fluttered around me, stumbled behind me in confusion.

“Where? Do you even know where we are? Amy stop,” he stood in front of me, and I felt my eyes burn brighter.

I saw myself reflected in his eyes, the burning, crazy mess I was, and I felt my heart shatter. He held up a reassuring hand, pointed to the bedroom as the apartment shook.

“Trust me,” he said, and I knew I had no choice but to do that.

So I took his hand, and he pulled me with urgency into the bedroom. He rifled through piles of clothes as the pen pot on his desk rattled. I could hear the plates in the kitchen rumble, glasses threatened to teeter off the island. May began to stir in her room as Peter pulled on his costume in record time, fixed something to his wrist. He threw open the window, held out his hand to me once more. I took it, and before I could ask what was happening, I was off of my feet and floating through the air. My scream died in my throat as we soared over Queens, the bright lights of the city a blur. My arms stopped shaking, my eyes stopped burning as the cold air slapped me in the face. His arm was tight across my waist, his boy surprisingly toned and lean against mine as we swung over buildings.

I tried to take it all in despite the watering of my eyes. It was beautiful, the New York skyline. We swung over Queens like it was only a mile wide, and with every breath of evening air I felt more and more myself. We neared the Queensboro bridge, and as he swung up onto one of the orangy beams, I looked up at his face, covered by his mask, and found myself hungry for his smile.

He set us done, and my legs wobbled. He put out a hand to steady me, and I allowed it, looked down at the cars as they passed below us. We were so high up, on the edge of life and death, and yet it felt transcendent. The wind whipped my hair across my face, and I clung to the bars to stop myself from teetering. Peter stood with ease, tugged off his mask, gave me a smile.

“I like to come here, clear my head.” He sat down, his legs swung back and forth as if he weren’t hundreds of feet up.

I stayed standing, hands gripped the bridge desperately. The howling of the wind and the whizz of cars made hearing my own thoughts almost impossible, and I liked it. I tried not to focus on the water that rushed below the bridge, and instead on the blur of headlights. It was beautiful, a blur of orange and white and red.

“I know it’s hard to lose people. When I lost my parents, and then my Uncle,” he stopped, looked down at the cars beneath us.

I saw pain reflected in his eyes, and I stood still, watched, listened.

“I didn’t know who I was anymore, but then I got these powers, and I knew I had a place. I knew I could do something,” he said, flexed his fingers.

It didn’t matter that his suit was more of a onesie than a superhero suit. It didn’t matter that people barely knew him, that he was knew to the job. It didn’t matter who he’d lost because he hadn’t let it matter. He hadn’t let it change him. I stooped down next to him on shaking legs, sat down on the cold metal. Our shoulders touched as we looked out at the horizon. My throat burnt as I let myself feel it, all of the rage, all of the fear.

“I’m sorry. I know it seems pathetic, me sitting here and getting emotional. My mother and sister aren’t even dead,” I sniffed, wiped my nose with the back of my hand as I squinted at the moon.

“But they might as well be. I’ll never be able to see them again, not like this,” I yanked on a lock of my white hair.

“I’d probably end up hurting them anyway. Or worse. I wish it never would have happened,” I hissed, hands clamped tight in my lap.

“What happened?” Peter asked after a long silence.

My eyes were drawn to the water again, and instead of fighting it, I let the memory of the lake consume me. I felt Brad’s hands, heard his friend’s laughter.

“I went to a college party. There was this guy, I thought… thought he liked me. I think he spiked me, because I could barely see, or move, or speak. He took me out to the lake, and his friends were filming, and laughing,” I paused, my eyes burnt bright, illuminated the night.

“He was going to rape me. I managed to get free, but I fell into the lake. They left me there to drown,” I spat, looked down at my hands to see the fire that burned there.

Gone were the pale-yellow flickers of fear, replaced by roaring hot red. I closed my fists, extinguished the flames. I looked up at Peter, to see his eyes were dark. He was staring at the cars below us, but his mind was far beyond that. I felt the rolling anger behind his eyes, black and dangerous and all consuming. I resisted the urge to peek at his thoughts, closed him off from my prying powers. When he looked at me again, his eyes had softened.

“I’m sorry. I… I,” he stuttered, and I gave him a smile.

I reached out, squeezed his knee.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said to take away from the anger and sadness in his eyes.

“Can we go back?” I asked, and he nodded.

He held out his hand, and this time I took it without hesitation.


	6. Normalcy

I woke up to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. I shot up, almost hit my head on the ceiling. I blinked as I wiped the sleep from my eyes, squinted through the open bedroom door. May and Peter were already dressed, flitting around the kitchen in organised chaos.

“Amy! Up up up,” May called.

I stretched, clambered down from the top bunk. I knelt down by my suitcase, rifled through the clothes I had packed. None seemed appropriate for school, a mixture of training clothes and dresses. I huffed, rubbed at my face, desperate for my own clothes.

“You need to borrow something?” Peter asked from behind me, made my jump.

I turned, breath caught in my throat, heart hammering in my chest. I hadn’t even heard him approach.

“God, don’t sneak up on me,” I cursed, tried to calm my breathing.

Peter rushed to apologise, stepped into the room.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he said as he went over to his wardrobe, pulled out a dark blue hoodie.

He offered it to me, and I observed him, narrowed my eyes. We hadn’t said much to each other last night, our revelations still hung heavy in the air between us. It had pained me to think he thought of me differently now, like I was some damaged, broken thing. I took the hoodie, gestured to a pair of his widelegged jeans.

“Do you have a belt?” I asked, and he nodded.

He passed me the jeans, a dark black belt with a silver buckle.

“Thank you,” I said as I went to the bathroom.

I locked the door behind me, let the clothes drop onto the ground as I braced myself against the sink. I met myself in the mirror with hostility, frowned at the hair that would mark me as different. I turned on the tap, splashed my face clean. When I looked into the mirror again, there was a figure behind me, and my blood ran cold.

Her face was as beautiful as I remembered, maybe even more so. Her hair fell around her face in tight obsidian curls, stark against her milky pale skin. Her cheeks and lips were flushed rouge with blood, her eyes dark and large. She looked no older than myself, flawless, youthful, and yet there was an eternity behind her stare. A crown of bronzed leaves and branches crowed her head, her golden gown pulled straight from Greek myth. She met my eyes in the mirror, and I felt as if the world had stopped on its axis.

“Daughter.” Her voice was high, childlike, but there was danger behind it.

Strength, power, fury.

“You resent me,” she cocked her head, confused.

I managed to find my voice, but I couldn’t turn to face her.

“You cursed me,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes narrowed; her smile faltered. Gone was the beautiful child that had approached me, replaced by the ruthless goddess she really was.

“I saved you. I gave you the power to seek revenge,” she hissed, and the sound could have slashed me in half.

“Revenge?” I asked, finally mustered the strength to turn.

She was gone before I moved a breath. I stood there, waited to see if she would return. The sound of the apartment returned, and I could hear May shouting. I pulled on my borrowed clothes, fastened the belt high on my waist, rolled up the bottoms of my jeans above my ankles. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulled half of it up into scrunchy I found under the sink. I looked at myself and saw a tiny sliver of who I used to be. Too big jeans cinched at the waist, folded over double, an oversized jumper, an outfit I would have thrifted for hours for. I gave myself one last look in the mirror, half expected the goddess to return, but she didn’t.

I unlocked the door, walked back to the bedroom to drop my pyjamas into the laundry bin.

“Come on, Amy. You don’t wanna miss the bus,” May called, and I rushed into the kitchen.

There was toast on the island waiting for me, and I took it, managed a bite before May round on me, handed me an envelope.

“This was at the door this morning,” she said, before she returned to making herself lunch.

I took another bite, opened the envelope to find a credit card, a wad of cash and a note.

_Don’t spend it all in one place – Tony_

I smiled, wondered how much was on it, how many clothes I could buy with it. I left the contents of the envelope on the island, minus twenty for lunch, turned to see Peter with a backpack in his hand. He looked me up and down, before he held the backpack out to me.

“You can borrow this until you get your own. I know its not exactly like… cute or anything, but its pretty comfy, and-” I cut him off by taking the bag, giving him a smile.

“It’s great. Thank you,” I thanked.

He nodded, scratched the back of his neck, then looked up, as if he’d heard a noise.

“The bus. Come on,” he moved round the island, gave his aunt a kiss on the cheek.

May ruffled his hair, gave him an adoring grin.

“Good luck today kids,” she said as Peter went towards the door.

I picked up my half-finished toast, jogged after him down the stairs. Sure enough, the bus was turning down the street, already half filled. Peter held out his hand, and the bus pulled over. I felt my nerves crawl down my spine as the doors creaked open, and the driver looked at us both.

“Got a friend today?” the driver asked in a voice that was less than interested.

Peter climbed up into the bus, and I followed.

“Transfer,” he said offhandedly, moved down the bus to where a dark haired boy sat alone.

“Hey Ned,” Peter said, and the boy looked up.

He grinned, his eyes bright, but then his gaze slipped to me, and his smile faltered slightly.

“Hey uh… I’m Ned,” he raised a hand in an awkward wave, and the bus vaulted forward. I fell into the seat in front of them, almost smacked my head on the window.

I straightened, cheeks flushed bright red, and fixed him with a nervous smile.

“Amy,” I offered, and he nodded.

He was full of questions, I could feel them buzzing below the surface. I leant back against the window, felt people’s eyes on me. I fisted my hands into my borrowed jumper, pulled my knees up to my chest, rested sideways on the seat.

“Do you have music?” I looked to Peter, who pulled out his phone as if he’d been waiting for me to ask.

I took it, slightly surprised, plugged in the headphone and turned the music up high. The bus faded as music blasted into my ears, and I felt myself relax as the bus rolled on. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ned and Peter talking, probably about me, but I chose to ignore it. I suppose it was a lot to explain, some random girl turning up at your house. I wondered if Ned knew about Peter, if he knew about any of it, and by the look on his face, the excitement that bubbled under the surface, I realised he probably did.

The bus pulled into Midtown, and the students filtered out. I walked with Peter down the halls, picked up my schedule from the office, had a brief talk with the headteacher, who looked like he’d rather be doing anything but talking to me. On our way to homeroom, a short ish boy with dark skin and a mean face bumped into Peter, made him drop his books. The boy turned, his smile mocking.

“Watch where you’re going, Parker,” he said with a leer, sipped from the coke can in his hand.

Peter stooped to pick up his stuff, while the boys eyes slid to me. He pulled on a charming smile.

“And who is this, dickwad? Where you been hiding this pretty tang,” he moved towards me, gave me a wink.

My hands tightened into fists as my sides as Peter straightened, fixed the boy with a glance.

“Flash this is Amy, Amy, Flash.” The way Peter said his name made it obvious that Flash was his personal bully, a tormenter and an idiot.

It seemed strange to me, that someone as powerful as Peter could have someone bully him. But high school as still high school, no matter what powers you possessed.

“Well, if you ever get bored of squalor, give me a holla,” he said, proud of himself.

I managed a fake smile, focused my attention on the coke can. I twisted my fingers, and the coke exploded, foamed over his pristine clothes and soaked the floor. Flash jumped back, screamed in a way that made everyone turn. Peter tried to hide his smile behind his book as I gave Flash a tight-lipped smile.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I replied, walked away from the mess I had created.

Peter trailed after me, a grin on his face.

“You know, you shouldn’t use your powers here,” he said, but there was no real anger in his voice.

I cocked a brow as we reached homeroom.

“No one saw. Besides, he deserved it,” I said, to which Peter gave me a pointed look.

We took our seats next to a pretty girl with dark skin and long black hair. She eyed me suspiciously as Ned sat on our other side.

“No more though, okay?” Peter leaned in close, whispered.

I ignored the shiver that ran down my spine and nodded.

“So whose your friend?” the pretty girl asked.

Peter straightened, leant back in his seat.

“This is Amy. Her parents knew my parents, she’s staying with me for a while,” he offered, no trace of a lie in his voice.

“I’m MJ,” she raised a hand, and I nodded.

“So where are you from?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

I opened my mouth to say something, but the teacher walked in, and the room fell silent.

For me, lunch times had always been filled with ice skating practice, stretches in the gym, working on costumes, dance practice. I felt lost in the canteen amongst the chatter of other students, tray in my hands as I looked for Peter. The day hadn’t been anything special, it was pretty usual in fact. English was still good, math still sucked, biology was bearable. It was strange, how ordinary it felt.

I searched the rows and rows of people from Peter’s face, but I couldn’t find him. I saw Ned, sat alone at one of the tables, and I made a beeline for him. It was better than being alone.

“Hey Ned,” I said as I approached.

He started, looked up and gave me a nervous smile.

“Oh hey,” he replied as I sat.

I unwrapped my turkey sandwich, stabbed the straw through my orange juice. All the while Ned stared at me, uneasy as I took a bite. I focused on his eyes, and allowed myself to go beneath the surface.

_Does she know I know? Did Peter tell her? Should I tell her? Does she know I’m the guy in the chair?_

My lips quirked up in a smile as I took another bite, tried to act casual.

“I know now,” I said pointedly, and his cheeks flushed.

He leant forward, a bit of the tension gone from his shoulder.

“How does it work? Can you hear everyone? All at once?” he asked, and I shrugged.

“Not everyone. I hear background noise, and I have to focus to hear specific people, unless their thoughts are super loud,” I whispered, conscious that there were others around us.

I spotted MJ and Peter walk through the door, and I felt my chest tighten. I wondered if they were together, if they were dating, and the thought felt foreign.

“So are thoughts in, like, our own voices? Or are they something else?” he asked.

I went to answer, but MJ joined us before I could. Her eyes lingered on me as she sat, and I could sense her suspicion.

“What were you guys talking about?” she asked as she pulled a pack lunch from her bag.

Peter sat next to Ned, gave me a smile, before he too pulled out a pack lunch. I leaned back in my chair, took another bite from my sandwich to buy myself some time to think. Her eyes were so piercing, they saw more than I could understand. It occurred to me that Peter probably hadn’t told her about me, especially if she was his girlfriend. I swallowed thickly.

“I was actually asking if she was going to Liz’s party,” Ned swooped in to save me.

At the mention of Liz’s name, Peter stiffened, and I felt his thoughts like a tidal wave.

_Liz._

There was so much emotional behind that one word, behind her name, that I didn’t have to hear anything else. It was suddenly clear that MJ was not his girlfriend, that he didn’t have a girlfriend at all, but he wanted her. Liz.

“So are you coming?” MJ asked, pushed her food around her tray as she stared at me.

Her gaze didn’t let up as I screwed up my sandwich packet, crushed my empty orange juice box.

“I don’t like parties,” I replied stiffly.

I didn’t think I could face a party. Alcohol, dancing, boys with reduced inhibitions. The thought alone made bile rise in my throat, and I looked away from MJ, sick of her prying eyes.

“Something bad happen at a party?” she asked.

I looked up, felt my hands begin to tremble. Ned’s water bottle began to teeter, vibrate back and forth. Peter looked up, his eyes wide, and grabbed it, popped it open and drank from it deeply.

“She doesn’t have to come,” Peter said between mouthfuls of water.

“Then why were you two discussing it?” MJ asked, head tilted to the side.

I gripped my knees, focused on breathing through my nose. She wasn’t going to stop, that much was clear. She was suspicious of me, and she had reason to be, but I wasn’t going to let her cause trouble for me. If it meant going to a stupid high school party, then I would.

“I said I didn’t like parties, I didn’t say I wasn’t going,” I replied.

Peter’s eyes widened a fraction as MJ smiled, leant back in her chair, took her first bite since sitting down.

“Great, its black tie,” she said, and I nodded tightly.

“Brilliant,” I replied as I stood.

“Amy,” Peter called after me, but I carried on towards the bins, where I emptied my tray.

I concentrated on not letting myself lose it, on keeping my eyes from burning. I kept my eyes down as I left the canteen, desperate to be alone.

When I got back to Peter’s place, there was a box waiting on my bed. It was plain, black, fastened with a silver ribbon. I looked at the label, which simply read.

_Complements of Tony Stark._

I pulled open the box, felt the breath go out of me as I saw what was inside. Skates, the nicest, most expensive skates available. Pristine white, baby blue laces, polished silver blades. Real silver, sterling silver. I picked one up, felt the soft lining. There was a phone too, an old flip phone with no access to the internet. I suppose he didn’t trust me not to message someone I used to know. There were contacts already plugged in: Natasha, Clint, Steve, Tony, Happy. All the Avengers. For training purposes.

“You don’t have to go to that party,” Peter said, and I turned.

He lingered in the doorway, looked over my shoulder at the skates. I put the lid back on, pushed the phone in my pocket.

“Not like I have much choice. What is up with that friend of yours?” I asked, fished out my training clothes.

“She’s… inquisitive,” he said as some sort of justification.

I raised a brow, clothes folded over my arm. He ducked his head.

“You’re going back to the compound?” he asked.

“To train,” I replied stiffly.

Something felt different between us. Ever since I felt the emotion behind her name, the way he thought about her, I hadn’t been able to shake this hard feeling in my stomach. Like something I’d gained was somehow lost again. It didn’t matter, I kept telling myself. He was a boy, and boys bought nothing but pain.

I moved past him towards the bathroom, changed into the dark training shirt and trousers Tony had given me. When I emerged Peter was still stood awkwardly in his room, his hand on the black box that housed my skates. When he heard me coming he jumped, removed his hand as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. I held out the clothes I had borrowed, gave him a smile.

“Thank you for these. I’ll go shopping after I train,” I said.

“Keep them,” he pushed them back to me.

I nodded, put them on the chair. I felt like there was something more I should say, but I couldn’t find the words. I met his gaze, my cheeks burning hot.

“I’m gunna… go now,” I gestured to the door, and he nodded.

“I’ll let May know you’ll be late,”

“Again,” Natasha called, her fists raised.

I was panting hard, my vision blurred. We’d been going at this for over an hour, drilling basic fighting stances, defences. Being a skater had given me stamina, flexibility, had built muscles, but I had no technique. I gulped down a breath, straightened. My ribs ached from her last punch, but I forced myself to face her.

She gave a knowing smile, gestured me forward. I swung for her, tried to keep my form tight, my elbows close to my ribs. She dodged, ducked away from my fist. I pulled my arms back to defensive position, quick enough to absorb her next hit, which landed on my forearm. I kept light on my feet, my hair stuck to my forehead, my skin damp and clammy. I swung for her abdomen, wanted to wind her, but she fell back again, too quick for me. I didn’t let her get in another hit, I swung again, this time for her throat. She caught my wrist in her hand without effort, twisted so hard I let out a yelp as pain shot up my arm. She swept her leg out, took out my knees, and I fell. The ground met me like an old friend, and I laid there coughing, spluttering, my vision shaking. My hands vibrated without my consent, and before I could think I swiped at her blindly. Earth broke from underneath us, a hard ball of dirt and wood and tiles, and smacked her in the stomach. It lifted her off the ground, sent her flying. She landed against the wall with a smack, rolled over and got to her feet. She was gasping, but she was on her feet and facing me again.

“You can’t always rely on your powers,” she said as she moved towards me, extended her hand.

I took it, allowed her to pull me to my feet. I winced at the pain that radiated all over me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I replied.

She shrugged, rolled her shoulders as she stretched. The door opened, and Tony walked in, looked over the scene in front of him.

“How’s it going?” he asked, eyed the hole in the floor my powers had left.

“She shows potential, although her lack of restraint is… something to work on,” she said with a smile.

Tony nodded thoughtfully, pulled up something on his phone, before he projected it into the sky. Thor and Bruce, their pictures blinking, their communication links down. Natasha tensed beside me, her eyes fixed on Bruce.

“What happened?” She asked, kept her voice even.

Tony shrugged, looked specifically at me.

“They’re off the grid. Gone. With Steve, Wanda, Sam and Nat going off to Lagos tomorrow, I can’t be so outnumbered. Before Bruce went missing…. He speculated you could use your abilities to locate people, to search out mind frequencies,” he said, and I knew the question he was going to ask.

Now that I was part of the Avengers, now that I owed him for protecting me, I would have to do things for him in return. I nodded to his unspoken question, and he smiled.

“Lets to it then,” he nodded to the door, and I hobbled after him.

Natasha followed behind silently as we made our way back to the lab. It was a path I was familiar with now. I sat on the operating table, crossed my legs and awaited instruction. Tony bought me two things; Bruce’s watch and one of Thor’s capes. He passed them both to me, one in each hand, and then backed off.

“How is she suppose to find them?” Natasha asked, her voice low.

I closed my eyes, focused on the items in my hands. At first I felt nothing, just stupid for sitting there with my eyes closed. Then, a flicker, like a candle just out of eyesight. I focused on the feel of Bruce, the feel of the leather of his watch band, the sound of his voice as he worked. The flicker expanded, and I saw channels of light.

“Where are they, Amy?” Tony’s voice flitted like a heartbeat on the edge of my vision.

I pushed for the channels of green tinged light that represented Bruce’s consciousness, grasped for them with translucent hands. They seemed to curl away from me, so far away, such a distance to cover.

“Where?” Tony demanded again.

Pain exploded over my temples as I chased the light, chased his thoughts. I pushed through the pain even as it tried to extinguish the lights in my vision, even as it stabbed every fibre of my being.

“Tony stop her,” Natasha whispered.

I was screaming. I couldn’t hear it, but I could feel it in my throat. I reached out, and the green lights turned to a flash of an image. A white and red room, space ships, piles and piles of junk, a fighting arena. As I tried to concentrate, something within me snapped, the limits of my powers, and I fell into darkness.

“Amy, Amy,” Natasha shook me, and I blinked.

I couldn’t see anything but brightness. I could feel Natasha’s hands on my shoulders, I could smell burning, but I could see nothing. My eyes burnt, and for the longest moment in my life, I was completely blind.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked.

“What did you see?” Tony pressed.

I blinked and exhaled a sigh of relief as my vision slowly returned. There were scorch marks on the ground, black and charred, and the windows had smashed. Tony stood beside me, his back ram rod straight. Natasha backed up a step as I sat up. I’d fallen off the table, not that I’d felt it, and landed on the ground. My hands were still hot from the fire I had produced.

“Far away. Really far away,” I replied as best I could.

“I couldn’t find Tony, but Bruce is somewhere in space,” I continued when Tony looked unimpressed.

He clenched his hands, muttered a curse under his breath.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked again.

I looked down at myself. I was unharmed, although the sleeves of my shirt were scorched. There was still pain in my head, but otherwise I was okay.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I replied, although my voice shook.

She helped me up as Tony typed something on his phone.

“I’ll call Happy to take you home,” Tony said before he left.

Natasha shook her head, gave me another once over.

“That was really something kid,” she said, but I got the feeling it wasn’t a complement.

I didn’t respond. All I could think about was how crazy the whole thing was. How amazing and terrifying it was to reach out like that. I wondered how far Bruce was, how many galaxies I had managed to span. I felt almost proud of what I’d done, although I knew I’d lost it, the scorch marks on the ground and the burnt tatters of my shirt told me that.

“What colour were the flames?” the words left my mouth in a rush, and for a moment Natasha looked confused.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded.

“What colour? The flames?” I pushed.

I needed to know how powerful I’d been, what I’d been able to do while not even realising. I felt this curiosity to my power now, instead of fear. Pushing myself like that, it made me want to push again.

“Blue,” she said, and there was a hint of fear in her eyes.

I nodded with a smile. Blue was the hottest part of the flame, the most powerful.

She didn’t have time to say more. Happy appeared at the door, and I almost skipped to join him.

“Hey,” I said, and he gave me a quizzical look.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” he said, his eyes lingered on the damage to the room.

“I’m excited to get going,” I said, walked down the hallway, desperate to go shopping.

I wasn’t able to go to my regular thrift stores, but there were still good ones open nearer to Peter’s. I spent hours in the stores, while Happy sat bored in the car. I picked up jeans, corduroy flares, faded band crew necks, flannels, bobbled knits and plain pieces. As I was about to get back into the car after my last thrift store, leather jacket and matching leather trousers tucked into my bag, something caught my eye. I straightened, peered at the high-end store across the street. In the window was a cowl necked, emerald green satin backless dress, knee length, something so beautiful and luxurious that at first I didn’t even consider it. Then, I looked down at the card in my hand, thought about Liz’s party, and made up my mind.

“I’ll just be a second,” I said to Happy, dumped my thrift finds on the backseat as I ran to the other store.

They were closing, the attendant at the doors, but I jammed my foot into the threshold gave her a sweet smile.

“Please. I just want to buy one thing,” I begged.

She looked down her nose at me, her eyes narrowed.

_It doesn’t look like you could afford it._

Despite her thoughts, she reluctantly opened the door. I ran over to the dress, found the rack where it was kept. I sifted through the fabric, so soft and shining, until I found one in my size.

“You don’t have time to try it on, sweetheart,” she called from the tills.

I debated back and forth, held the dress in my hands. It was such a beautiful dress, I just wasn’t sure I was worthy. I thought about walking into the party, about wearing it and feeling eyes on me, and I hesitated. Would I look pretty in this dress, and would that lead to someone hurting me? I shivered as I thought about Brad, about what he would do if he saw me in this dress. I started to put it back, my lips pressed tight. Then, I frowned.

No.

I wouldn’t allow him to ruin this.

I took the dress to the counter, and the cashier pulled a face.

“Did you look at the price tag?” she asked.

“I don’t need to,” I replied, slapped the card down.

She scanned the dress, scanned the card. There was a terrifying moment where I thought it would get rejected, but the print of the receipt made me exhale a breath. She folded the dress, put it into an expensive looking bag. I snatched it from her, shot her a condescending smile, before I high tailed it to the car.

“Get what you need?” Happy asked, sounding bored.

“Yep,” I said, smiled down at the bag.


	7. Ice and Nightmares

“What happened to you eye?” May almost screeched as I came through the door, Happy on my tail carrying some of the bags.

I dumped my bags on the ground as May descended upon me, took me by the chin and tilted my face up to the light. I let her tut, her fingers prodded under my right eye. I winced at the pain. No wonder that attendant had looked at me so funny. Happy scooped up the bags I had dropped took them to the room. May bought me to the kitchen, took some ice out of the freezer and put it into a towel. She pressed it to my eye, folded her arm and fixed me with a concerned look as she waited for my answer.

“I fell,” I offered.

She rolled her eyes, looked over my shoulder at Happy.

“Tell Tony I’m not happy with this,” she said.

“I’ll tell him,” Happy said, his cheeks red.

May huffed, nodded that I could leave so she could talk to Happy alone. I went into the bedroom, where Peter was bent over the desk, working on an old computer. There were bits everywhere; wires, mechanisms, hard drives. He turned at the sound of me, eyed the bags, before he turned back to his computer.

“How was training?” he asked, seeming only half interested.

He was concentrating on the work he was doing, not that I understood what it was. He was fiddling with the motherboard, unscrewing something with a small screwdriver.

“Nat smacked me around,” I replied.

Peter hummed, still too consumed by what he was doing.

“I learnt how to reach out to people’s minds today,” I said.

“Oh really? That sounds really cool,” he said, cast me a smile over his shoulder, before he looked back at his work.

I leant against the bedframe, watched him work. His hair fell into his eyes, and he brushed it away, his eyes narrowed. The concentration on his face, the movement of his muscles under the shirt, it made my cheeks burn. I couldn’t stop watching him, how engrossed he was. After a moment he turned, blinked as if he’d realised, he’d been ignoring me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he began, but I held up a hand to stop him.

“No, please. Can you show me?” I asked.

He looked baffled, but he nodded. I joined him, knelt beside his chair, and he started to tell me what he was doing. I didn’t understand what he was talking about, but I would have listened to him forever. He was so enthralled, he looked so happy, and it showed in the smile on his face, the lightness of his voice. I blinked up at him, hung on every word, when he laughed, I felt my heart tighten. Damn.

Damn.

“So yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he finished, looked back at me as if to see if I was still following on.

“I know its dorky,” he said, looked away from me, a little embarrassed.

“It’s not dorky,” I reassured him.

He looked back at me, his cheeks red, and gave me a nervous smile. I ducked my head, felt nerves tingle in the base of my stomach.

“So, you skate?” he said.

I nodded, and then had an idea. I shot up, made him jump.

“I can take you, if you want?” I offered, and gave me a sceptical look.

“I think I’d fall on my face,” he offered, and I laughed.

“You have the strength and reflexes of a spider, I think you’ll be okay,” I reasoned, not that that seemed to make a difference to him.

“Alright, but if I fall, I’m gunna blame you,” he said, and I felt a thrill of excitement run through me.

“I can live with that,”

The rink was empty, dark, and it took me a minute to fumble for the lights. Peter stood behind me, rigid and on guard. I didn’t blame him, we had broken in after all. Once I turned on the lights, and the ice glittered like I remembered, I felt at home. I practically sprinted down the stands, kicked off my shoes as I went, pulled my skates on with an accuracy I’d perfected from a young age. Peter joined me, sat beside me, the skates I’d found in the storeroom limp in his hand. I finished tying my new laces, then got on my knees in front of him, took his leg in my hand. He jumped, looked down at me with wide eyes.

“You know how to tie them?” I asked, and he shook his head.

I took off his shoe, ignored the feel of his muscles through his trousers as I pushed on his skate, laced it up tight. All the while I felt his eyes on me, watching me as I knelt between his legs. The murmur of his thoughts started to rise into a loud chorus, but I pushed it aside. It didn’t feel right to hear what he didn’t want me to. I moved to his other leg, fasted the skate, gave his knee a tap.

“All done,” I said, my voice lower than I intended.

I put a hand on his thigh to help myself up, and we both stiffened at the contact. I rose, met his gaze briefly. His mouth was pressed tight, his eyes skirted mine as he too stood.

“Alright, lets go,” he said, clapped as he moved to the ice.

I pushed open the door to the rink, shook off my nerves as I stepped on the ice. I exhaled a breath as I glided, effortless. For a moment I allowed myself to glide without purpose, to feel the chill of the ice, and I smiled. Then, I pushed myself into momentum, began circling, practiced an axel. I landed it with ease, grinned from ear to ear as I imagined the music, the crowd. I moved through triple loops, layback spins, combinations that could have landed me titles. I turned into a biellmann spin, leg extended above my head, ankle in hand. As the world blurred around me, I felt everything else melt away, and I could imagine I still had a chance at the Olympics, that I was still in a team. I could imagine that tomorrow I would meet my trainer, that she would put me through relentless drills, and I would hate it and love it as much as I always had.

Then, I stopped spinning, and my eyes landed on Peter, and I knew I could no longer have that life.

“You’re really good,” he shouted from where he still stood on the edge.

I skated over to him, braced myself on the side. I was breathing hard, a smile permanently fixed to my face.

“Your turn,” I said, held out my hands to him.

He looked nervous, but he took my hands, allowed me to pull him onto the ice. He was wobbly, his knees shook as he bent over at the waist, not used to balancing his weight this way. I pulled him along slowly, helped him straighten. There was fear in his eyes, but also exhilaration.

“When did you start skating?” he asked as he wobbled.

“I was maybe four. I went for a friends birthday party and never looked back,” I said as I guided him around the rink.

“Did you compete?” he asked.

I let go of one of his hands, allowed him a little more freedom. His fingers tightened on mine as his arm flayed, struggled for balance.

“Yeah, a lot. Won a few trophies, thought about the Olympics. Try not to lean, just trust yourself,” I advised as he straightened.

We circled the rink again and again as he gained his confidence. After a few laps, I pulled us to a stop, faced him.

“I’m going to let you go now, okay?” I asked.

His grip tightened further, turned my fingers white. He looked terrified.

“I don’t know,” he began.

“Do you trust me?” I asked, the same question he had asked me.

He met my eyes, and I saw the fear reduce, and his grip softened.

“Okay. Okay,” he said, more to himself than to me.

I let him go, skated back a few paces.

“Come on, you can do it,” I reassured him, beckoned him forward.

He began slowly, little movements while he gained his balance. I skated backwards, kept my eye on him as we kept going. After a minute or so, he laughed, smiled broadly as he picked up the pace.

“I’m doing it. Are you seeing this? Omg wow look!” he gestured to himself, sped up more.

I laughed, revelled in his excitement. It was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive.

“Okay, just slow down,” I said as he took large strides, and as he took his eyes off the ice, looked at me, he stumbled.

He lurched forward, grabbed onto me as he fell. We tumbled onto the ice, my back hit the cold with a crack, and Peter landed on top of me, elbowed me in the ribs. I groaned as Peter shifted on top of me, winced.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I did warn you,” he apologised.

He moved back to look at me, and I burst out laughing. I don’t know where it came from, but I couldn’t stop. He frowned, but there was a tilt to his lips. I snorted, and he raised a brow, no longer concealing his smile.

“What was that?” he asked as I managed to calm down.

“Sorry,” I said.

We stared at each other, and my smile fell as we locked gazes. The feel of his body on mine, his hands on my arms, they made a mixture of excitement and fear swirl in my chest. As his lips parted, I felt the fear win out, and I looked away, pushed him off of me.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t,” I said as I pushed myself up, skated to the edge and clambered back into the stands.

I started yanking at my laces as Peter made his way haphazardly towards me.

“Amy I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, or make you… I don’t know,” he struggled for words.

I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault.

“I just don’t feel comfortable with people… touching me,” I flinched at the thought.

I pulled off my skates, pushed them back into the box. Peter sat beside me, fingers tight on the bench.

“I won’t ever hurt you,” he said after a long pause.

My heart squeezed at the promise in his voice, and I found the strength to look at him again. I wanted to trust in the softness there, I felt myself pushing to do so. Everything that had happened, what he’d done to me, it couldn’t ruin my life forever. And yet I felt it, the marks his hands had left in my flesh, deep to the bone.

“And I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” This time when he spoke, his eyes were darker, and I saw his fingers tighten on the bench beneath us, so much so they dented the metal.

I felt myself soften then, and I managed a smile. There was kindness in his eyes, a kindness that had never been in Brad. I could trust him, I felt that with overwhelming clarity. I gave his shoulder a bump, before I knelt, undid his skates.

“Maybe next time you won’t fall so hard,”

_There was darkness. A shadowy abyss that stretched for millennia, endless, depthless. I floated in it, weightless, lost, unsure of where I was, of where I’d been, of where I was going. Then, there was light. Beams of ruddy green, reflected through ripples. It was dim, but the shimmering of the water became clear above me. My lungs burnt for breath as I stared at the shadow of my assaulter. Yet this time, he did not run. He jumped into the water, sunk down to greet me with a grin. His hands were on me, on my arms, my waist, my legs. A billion burning hands. He pulled me against him, and as his lips met mine and my lungs gave out, the laughter of the goddess echoed through my mind, harsh and unforgiving._

I woke up screaming.

I gasped for breath; the feel of water still fresh I my lungs. I choked it up, and it spilt black onto my sheets. My limbs burnt from his hands, and I rolled up my surprisingly dry pyjamas to look at my skin. There were red handprints left on my skin, burn marks, and I felt my head spin.

“Amy. Amy what’s going on?” Peter climbed up my ladder, stood on the rungs and stared at me.

He was shirtless, his shoulders tense, the hair on his arms stuck on end. I shook my head, pushed my sleeves down, but not before Peter saw.

“What happened? Who did that?” he asked, looked around the room.

“No one. It was a dream, I think… maybe I burnt myself,” I said, looked at my hands.

They were still hot, a reflex against danger. Yet as I looked at my legs I found more and more burns, and with each passing second I became more convinced that the goddess was taking some wicked vengeance. Peter turned back to me, brows furrowed. He tapped his fingers on the bedframe, suddenly awkward.

“Do you want me to…” he gestured to the bed, where the sheets lay wet.

I nodded, scooted towards the ladder. He stepped back as I stripped the bed, bundled the damp sheets into the laundry bin. The mattress was damp and stained black, and I eyed it in annoyance. There was nothing worse than sleeping in a damp bed. Peter toed the ground nervously, nodded to his bed.

“You can take it if you want,” he said.

“It’s yours. I’ll sleep on the couch,” I started towards the living room, but he blocked the exit with his arm, gave me a smile.

“Honestly. Take the bed,” he said.

I swallowed, gave him a smile.

“Okay. Thank you,”

I settled in his sheets, took in the scent of him. A shiver ran down my spine as I turned over, the duvet still warm from his body. I watched him collect some blankets from the cupboard, before he nodded at me.

“Good night,”


	8. Revenge

“You’re pulling your punches,” Tony said.

I huffed, glared at him where he stood safely behind an impenetrable screen. The air in the compound had been tense ever since what happened in Lagos. There was already talk of repercussions, although nothing was confirmed yet. Wanda had barely spoken since, too guilty and broken from what happened, although it hadn’t really been her fault.

“Again,” Tony instructed.

Four prototype bots were released from the ceiling, and I tried to concentrate. I focused on the ground beneath my feet, pulled a chunk of earth up and swooped it into the side of the first bot. It connected, sent the bot reeling into the wall. The second fired at me, rubber pellets that still left a bruise. I dodged, felt my fingertips vibrate as I took a breath and shot a beam of fire at it. The fire was pale, milky yellow and weak, and it barely tickled the bot.

I ducked as one swooped for my head, felt the vibrations radiate up my hands. I tried to reign in my powers as I reached for the water in the bowl to my right, pulled it into a spiral and froze it into a spear, which I drove through the bots chest. I didn’t have time to revel in my accomplishments as a metal arm locked around my waist. My vision began to blur and my eyes burnt, and I knew if I didn’t stop I would lose control. I held up my hands in surrender, and the arm slacked.

The door opened, and Tony moved into the room. The two remaining bots retreated into the wall, the broken ones whirred on the ground as they tried to rise.

“What was that?” Tony asked.

I grit my teeth. I didn’t expect him to understand. He didn’t have powers, he had a suit that he could control, that he had made. I had no such luxury.

“I don’t want to lose it,” I replied stiffly.

He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose. There was a softness to his eyes that I hadn’t seen before, a tiredness and sympathy that I didn’t think he was capable of.

“Look. You can’t be afraid of who you are. I think the only thing holding you back, the only reason you haven’t a hold over your powers, is because your afraid to use them. As soon as you let go of your fear, you’ll be unstoppable. And we need that,” he reassured.

I knew he was right. Fear had done nothing but control me, both with my powers, and in my everyday life. I flinched at male laughed, I hated to be touched, I felt a shadow of my former self. I used to flirt, I used to laugh, I used to be fearless. Now I had these powers, and I was more afraid.

“I’ll try, okay? I think I have some stuff I need to sort out,” I said.

I’d been treating what happened to me like a curse, but the goddess had gifted me. I felt her presence now, in the back of my mind, her whispered words, and I knew what I had to do.

“I need to go,” I said suddenly.

Tony looked sceptical, I still had over an hour of training left, but maybe he saw the conviction in my eyes, because he nodded.

“Tomorrow, alright kid?” he said.

“Didn’t Peter tell you? We have a party tomorrow,” I said as I pulled out my phone, pulled up Peters contact.

“Why is it I never get told anything around here?” he asked, tactfully didn’t argue with me over it.

He wouldn’t have much to say anyway, he was once considered the playboy bachelor after all.

“Happy will take you home,” Tony called as I walked off, text Peter.

_I’ll be late. I need to do something in the suburbs._

Greek row looked much the same as the first time I’d come. Busy with drunk college students, parties raging. It seemed so obscure, that it looked so similar when everything had changed. Brad’s frat house lay dark, the party at a few houses down, but there were still lights on in bedroom. I looked at the windows, squinted as I tried to reach out for Brad’s mind.

_Yeah baby. This is so good,_

It didn’t take me long to find him, and I cringed at the internal thoughts of his escapades. I walked into the house, made a beeline up the stairs. The place stood quiet, apart from the low thrum of music from the house down the street. I assumed most of the boys were out at the party. I walked down the hallway, stopped outside the door. I could hear him grunting, the slap of skin on skin, and my hands began to vibrate.

“Not yet,” I whispered under my breath.

I opened the door, the crackle of fire at my fingertips. There was as girl on his bed, passed out, completely naked. He was thrusting into her with speed, his face scrunched up, sweat on his back. He turned at the sound of the door, his mouth open to shout, but then his eyes landed on me, and his face went ashen white, and the fear that pulsed from him was almost tangible.

“You’re dead,” he whispered, too shocked to even pull out of the unconscious girl.

Every fibre of my being shook as I met his stare. My eyes burnt, and his face contorted in fear. He stumbled back, pressed against the wall, completely naked for all to see. I raised a brow.

“What? Didn’t expect to see me again? Didn’t expect to see the girl you tried to rape and then left to drown?”

The ground beneath our feet shook, and he began to tremble.

“I… I didn’t mean to. They told me to, my friends,” he snivelled.

I was shaking, and instead of being afraid, I lent into it. The glass of water on his side table shattered; the water came to me in shards of ice. I pushed them towards him, let them hover next to his neck, his abdomen, his penis. He was crying now, snotty nosed and like a child. All I felt was hatred and resentment and rage.

“Please, please,” he begged.

I tightened my fists, the shards inched towards him, grazed the skin of his neck. It drew blood, and the ground beneath us shook so hard his bookcase toppled over. There was a murmuring, and I looked to the curl, hunched over on the bed, barely conscious, and I felt a lance of pain. My rage fell to emptiness, and the ground stopped shaking.

“If you ever do this to another girl again. Ever. I will kill you,” I hissed, and he nodded furiously.

“Yes. Yes okay,” he pleaded.

I let the ice drop onto the ground, moved to the girl. I pushed her hair off her face, tried to gauge if she could stand. Her eyes fluttered, and she mumbled, but there was no recognition there. I picked up the sheets, wrapped them around her as I helped her sit up. Brad still stood pinned to the wall, his chest heaving.

“You’re going to be okay,” I whispered to the girl as she gained more consciousness.

I pulled her to her feet, put her arms over my shoulders.

“Where am I?” she mumbled.

“It’s okay, I’m going to take you to the hospital, and then to the cops,” I said.

“The cops? No, that’s not what we-” I cut Brad off with a wave of my hand.

Earth came shattering through the window, pinned him to the wall. He struggled, but there was no moving.

“Shut up,” I hissed.

I bought her out onto the street, where Happy was still waiting. He jumped out of the car to help me as the girl stumbled, looked at me with alarm.

“What happened?” he asked.

“We need to take her to the hospital. Now, Happy.”

He helped her into the front seat, and just before I got in the back, I caught a glimpse of the lake through the trees, and I could have sworn I saw the goddess standing by the lakes edge, smiling at me.


	9. The Things He Does In The Dark

“How was the suburbs?” His voice came from the darkness, and I kicked myself.

I had deliberately been quiet as not to wake him. I hadn’t really wanted to talk. At the hospital the girl came to, explained what had happened. Brad had given her a drink, much like he’d given me, and then taken her outside. She didn’t remember much else. The nurse called the police, and for two hours I sat with her as they took down her story. I gave my testimony too, about that night on the lake, although I had to lie and say I managed to swim away. The girl, her name had been Olive, had thanked me tirelessly, and for the first time since it had happened, I felt at peace.

Peter switched on his lamp, sat up in bed. I stayed standing, fiddled with the edge of my sleeve.

“I went to see him. The guy who tried to rape me. He was doing it to someone else. So I hurt him and Happy helped me take her to the hospital,” I said.

Peter leant forward, hands braced against the steel frame. His jaw was tight.

“So are they going to arrest him?” he asked.

“There will be a trial. I’ll have to speak, but hopefully,” I said.

I shucked off my tattered jumper, pulled my hair from its ties. Tony had been right, as soon as I stopped being afraid of my powers, they came so naturally.

“You’re okay?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied.

I felt drained, like I’d been holding on to all this tension, like my muscles had been so tense with anger and guilt and fear, and now they I had faced him, my whole body felt lax. I grabbed my pyjamas, gave him a tired look.

“Do you mind?” I asked, motioned for him to turn around.

He flushed bright red but did so. I peeled off my clothes, pulled on my pyjamas, then climbed up into the bed. The mattress was still damp, the sheets not out of the wash yet, but I was too tired to care. I fell asleep quickly, dreamlessly.

There was a rustling, a panting, and I opened my eyes. It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since I fell asleep. I was still half asleep, unsure if I’d heard anything at all. Then, I heard it again, a muffled groan, and frantic movement. I stayed very still, my senses on high alert. At first I thought someone was in pain, and I tried to sense for thoughts, for an intruders presence, but I felt nothing. Then as I came to fully, I felt the pull of pleasure, and the moan came clearly from below me. I stiffened as I realised what was going on.

Peter was jacking off.

I didn’t move, too embarrassed. If I made a noise now, he’d think I was listening to him. No, I had to keep still, keep quiet. I laid still as I heard his breath hitch. I clenched my eyes shut, felt something twist in my stomach as my heartbeat rose. His thoughts were so loud, so unbridled.

_There was a dark room, and Peter, and he had his hands up a girl’s shirt. It was too dark to see who she was, but he was kissing her neck, his fingers gripped her waist tight._

He threw his head back into the pillow as he groaned, his pace quickened. I could feel myself getting hot, my fingers itched to touch, but I knew I couldn’t move.

_They were naked now, he was hard against her thigh, and when she reached down to take him in her hand-_

He came with a gasp, then laid there for a moment, caught his breath. Once his heart was under control, he pushed up, went to the bathroom. I closed my eyes as he passed, pretended to be asleep. My cheeks were flushed, and I felt a hot desperation settle in my veins. Hearing him moan, hearing his thoughts, they touched something inside me I hadn’t felt in a while.

He came back, settled into bed. Long after he’d fallen to sleep, I found myself lying there, still fixated on that dark room in his memory.


	10. Parties Are For Drowning

“I’m really starting to regret this whole party thing,” I hissed.

Megan nodded. She was my lab partner; quiet, smart, kept to herself. She was a far cry from the friends I’d kept in Manhattan, who had all been loud and outgoing, but she was a welcome reprieve. We sat in her bedroom, makeup splayed all around us, my dress and hers hung neatly over the bathroom door. I’d felt too awkward to get ready at Peters after last night, every time I looked at him I kept picturing him moaning.

“So are you and Peter dating?” she asked, and I almost choked.

My eyes bugged at her as she smiled, focused on applying her lipstick instead of looking at me.

“No! No, he has a crush on Liz,” I replied, to which Megan pulled a face.

“Ugh, doesn’t everyone?” she asked.

Liz was beautiful, it didn’t surprise me that so many people liked her. I put on mascara, neutral shadow, some blush. It had been a while since I’d gotten dressed up, and as I looked in the mirror, I felt strange. The way my hair stood against my olive skin; it was striking. I felt like a princess from a foreign world, someone from a fantasy novel.

I pulled my hair into a messy bun, left a few curls to frame my face. Megan passed me the red lipstick, and I hesitated.

“Oh come on, you’ll look great,” she said, and I put it on.

She dressed into her midnight blue dress; it was modest, with a high neck and low hem. I pulled on my own dress, took off my bra. I checked in the mirror to make sure no one would see my nipples, but luckily the material was thick enough. I pulled on the silver heels Megan was letting me borrow, looked at myself in the mirror again. I barely recognised myself.

“Well maybe he’ll like you after tonight,” she quipped, giggled.

I pulled at the low back of the dress, flushed.

“Maybe,”

The party was well underway by the time we arrived. The music and the swaying made my pulse raise, and I stopped on the sidewalk, stared at the front door in paralysed terror. Megan turned, cocked her head at me.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

I swallowed hard, clenched my hands against the tingling in my fingertips. I followed her into the party, nerves tangled in my stomach. There was cheap liquor dotted around, red solo cups and shot glasses. I kept away from them, glanced over the familiar faces. MJ was talking to some girl by the kitchen, Liz and her friends were gathered in the living room, giggling over a punch bowl. There were people in the back garden, crowded around the pool. Peter and Ned were in the dining room, huddled in the corner. I flushed as I saw him in his suit, tie badly tied, hair ruffled. He laughed, and my chest tightened.

“Want a drink?” Megan asked.

I shook my head. I didn’t trust myself to drink and not lose control. Megan shrugged, went over to the kitchen to grab a beer. I stood awkwardly in the hallway, unsure where to go. I hadn’t made many friends, Megan was really all I had, but she was talking to some guy in a tweed blazer, twiddling with her hair. I risked another look over at Peter and Ned, who were seemingly engrossed in their conversation. I hesitated for only a moment, felt eyes on me the longer I stood still, before I walked over to them. Peter must have heard my footsteps, because he looked up.

He blinked, as if unsure who I was. His mouth parted, his eyes raked me up and down, and all I could think about was his laboured breathing, the groan he let out when he came.

“Wow Amy,” he breathed.

Ned looked up, choked on his beer.

“You look nice,” he said, and I smiled, ducked my head in embarrassment.

“Thanks, so do you,” I patted the front of his pink shirt.

He gave a laugh, struck a pose. Peter stayed silent, his hands clasped at his sides. There was a beer in his hand, half empty, and I tapped on the bottleneck, gave him a pointed stare.

“I didn’t know you drank,” I said, and Peter shrugged.

“I thought I’d try it,” he said with a cheeky smile.

The music changed, and Liz started pulling people into middle of the living room, encouraged people to dance. I looked between Pete and Liz, then looked to Ned, who had the same knowing look on his face as me.

“You should talk to her,” I said.

Peter’s face flushed bright red, he ran a hand through his hair as he looked away from her. I pushed his shoulder, pointed to the beer.

“Come on, what’s this good for if not confidence?” I asked.

Peter hesitated, looked at me, and then Liz, and then Ned. He looked to lost, and for a moment the thought of him leaving to dance with her made my stomach turn, but I pushed it away. I squeezed his shoulder, gave him a reassuring smile.

“Just go wish her a happy birthday, tell her that her shoes look pretty, and dance with her,” I encouraged.

He bit his lip, ran a hand down his face, before he walked over to her. Ned and I watched as he approached her awkwardly. They started talking, Liz giggled, gave him the smile that meant she was into him. Peter smiled, a real, genuine smile, and for some reason that made pain lance through my chest. I looked away, and Ned caught me.

“You know, you told him to go over there,” Ned pointed out.

I rolled my eyes, looked at the patio doors for an escape.

“I’m going to get some air,” I said, artfully avoided his thinly veiled accusation.

Ned chuckled as I walked away, stepped into the night air. There were people making out on the sun loungers, people splashing around in the pool in their underwear. I took a moment to breathe, more comfortable in the night air.

“Hey Amy, you’re looking hot!” I heard Flash come up behind me, and before I could turn and scowl, he grabbed my ass.

I felt anger spear through my body, my hands began to shake, but there wasn’t time for me to react. There were hands on me, lifting me off the ground.

“Throw her in, throw her in,” Flash was cheering, the stench of vodka on his breath.

“No, stop!” I shouted, but no one listened.

I struggled, my limbs vibrated, and it took all my strength not to reach for earth or fire in public. They tipped me, and I hit the water with a smack. I plunged into the lukewarm water, and in a blink it turned from white tiles, brightly lit and tinged blue to murky black, muddy lake water. I was in the lake, drowning, struggling, with the goddess leering in front of me.

“ _You should have killed him,”_

Her burning hands latched onto my neck, and I screamed. I thrashed blindly, saw nothing but the lake, tried to make it to the surface. Every instinct in my body begged for me to control the elements around me, my eyes burnt, my lungs burnt, my fingers burnt, but I pushed it down, forced myself to control it.

Then, there were strong arms around me, warm, safe arms, and the pool was back, and blinked through the water to see Peter. He pulled me to the surface, helped me to the edge of the pool. I leant against it hard, choked up the water I had swallowed. Peter was breathing hard, his jacket discarded on the nearby sun lounger, his shirt now see through.

“Who the hell can’t swim?” Flash asked, laughed hard.

Peter glared up at him, pulled himself from the pool and jumped to his feet.

“You think that was funny?” Peter asked, his fists clenched at his sides.

Flash turned to the crowd, pointed at Peter like he couldn’t believe what was happening. I pulled myself from the pool, rolled like a beached whale onto the decking. My dress clung to my body, and as I sat up I crossed my arms across my chest, scared people would see too much.

“I think it was hilarious,” Flash said.

I saw the tightening of Peter’s shoulders, and I knew in one punch he could damage Flash for the rest of his life. I pushed myself up, put my hand on his shoulder. Peter barely looked at me, his jaw tight. Flash mock pouted; his face smug.

“Come on, let’s go,” I said, gave Flash the dirtiest look I could muster.

Peter tensed, and I felt the anger vibrate through him, the urge to fight, the urge to give Flash what he deserved. I squeezed his shoulder harder, and he finally took a step back. He put an arm around my waist, a possessive gesture that surprised me with its power. He grabbed his jacket, draped it around my shoulder.

His arm was like iron over my back as he lead me out the garden, back down to the street. When we got there, he cursed, shook his head, pulled on his hair.

“I should have done something, I should have…” he trailed off, kicked out at the bins.

I took his face in my hands, forced him to look at me. There was real aguish in his eyes, and it broke me to see it.

“You did do something. You pulled me out of there, I would have drowned.” I kept his face steady, pressed my forehead to him.

He closed his eyes, his hands found my waist, and my heart jumped into my throat. My breath shuddered as he opened his eyes again, his lips so close to mine. It occurred to me I wanted to kiss him, and the thought was so intrusive and surprising that I jumped.

He looked down, pulled back, and I felt his lose like the loss of a limb.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stuttered.

“No, no it’s okay,” I pushed my wet hair off my face to give myself something to do.

“I’ll call a cab, we should get out of these clothes,” he said, then blushed furiously.

“Because they’re wet! Not because… shit,” he turned, and I struggled to stop smiling.


	11. Hold Me

May was asleep when we got back. Peter chucked me one of his jumpers and a pair of joggers, and I changed in the bathroom, washed off my makeup. I looked in the mirror at my flushed cheeks, at my smile, and realised I was happy. Despite everything that had happened, I was happy. I shivered as I walked back into the bedroom. Peter was already under the covers, wrapped up tight. I eyed my still damp mattress, the lack of sheets, and felt the happiness drain out of me.

“May says we can go to target tomorrow, get some home stuff,” Peter said, already half asleep.

I nodded, climbed into my bed, tried to get warm. I heard him turn over, exhale a breath as he fell asleep. I closed my eyes, willed myself to do the same.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him before I fell asleep.

_I was somewhere cold. Somewhere cold and damp and dark. I shifted, tried to warm myself up with a flame, but my powers were gone. I squinted into the darkness to see the goddess, her hair flowing like smoke in the brutal wind._

_“Men are not to be trusted. Men are to be broken,” she hissed._

_She flicked her hand, and Brad stood before me, naked and grinning. He launched at me, all hands and teeth and force._

I woke with a jolt, pushed the covers off me in a desperate attempt to breathe. I looked around the room, but neither the goddess or Brad were anywhere to be seen. Peter had bolted awake below me, aware of my nightmare.

“Amy?” he called, and shivered, freezing and damp and scared.

I climbed down from my bunk bed, pulled the sleeves of my jumper down to cover my hands. I was cold, and as I shivered Peter moved back, patted the space next to him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked.

I didn’t hesitate. Something about the warmth of his face, the lowness of his voice, made me crave his proximity. I shifted into bed next to him, sighed into the heat of where he’d been. We barely fit, our legs bumped as we tried to figure it out. He pressed himself against the wall so as not to touch me.

“I keep having these nightmares. I think the goddess that gave me these powers wanted me to use them for… I don’t know, revenge? She seems to hate men,” I said as I settled, closed my eyes.

“Why don’t you talk to her?” he asked.

I laughed through my nose, felt sleep tug at me again.

“And suffer her wrath?” I teased.

I pulled the covers more firmly over my shoulders, leant into him. He was so warm, and I craved that warmth. His breath caught as my hand found his waist. He went rigid, and my half-asleep brain dully recognised that I was probably out of line, that this was crazy and I was crazy, but I was exhausted and I hadn’t felt so comfortable in days. Before I fell asleep, I felt him shift, and then his arm was around me, and I wasn’t alone.

I woke up groggily as dawn light faded through the window. Neither of us had drawn the blinds, and it was too early to be waking up on the weekend. I rubbed my eyes, thought about getting up and closing them. I was sweating, Peter was pressed against my back, his arm hard across my waist. He was hot, almost like he was running a fever. Or maybe I just ran cold now, and he was a normal temperature. I shifted, tried to kick my legs out of the covers, and that’s when I felt it. The hardness against my ass. I froze, suddenly wide awake. He mumbled in his sleep, pulled me closer, and my face flushed at the growing evidence of his erection. I tried to lift his arm carefully, so as not to wake him. If I had to face him I would die of embarrassment.

The alarm clock buzzed to life, Peter must have left it on from school, and I felt my face drain of its colour as Peter stirred awake and opened his eyes. I slammed my hand into the clock, and it fell silent, but it was already too late. I felt his whole body stiffen as he realised what had happened, and he flinched away from me, backed up against the wall.

“I didn’t, I mean I can’t control it, it just, oh my god,” he spluttered, climbed out the end of the bed and dashed to the bathroom.

I laid back in his bed, lip caught between my teeth. I heard him cursing in the bathroom, and I would have laughed had I not been consumed with the memory of his groaning, and now the feel of his dick rock hard against my ass. I sucked in a breath to steady myself. He liked Liz. Not me, Liz. Yes, he was cute, and he was nice, and he was hot, but I didn’t have time for boys.

Peter came back a minute later, erection gone, face dark red. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, his mouth opened and closed. He let out a breath, hung his head in embarrassment.

“I’m just gunna… get breakfast now,” he said, before he darted into the kitchen.


	12. The Names We Call Ourselves

Peter and I had been awkward ever since that morning. We never really spoke, although we would sit and watch Avatar in silence. I’d gotten a better handle on my powers ever since that night at Brads, but Natasha was still managing to beat my ass every training session. The Avengers had disbanded over the Sokovia accords, and every day I felt the tension rising in the compound. Peter and I had been kept out of it, Tony said we were too young to be in on the meetings, but this morning I’d received a text from Tony asking me to come to the compound early, and when I’d gone outside Happy had been waiting for me.

I stood in a room I’d never been in before; the walls were lined with gear and weapons, prototypes of Steve’s shields, Clints arrows. Tony hadn’t arrived yet, and I was growing impatient. I tapped my foot, chewed on my thumb as I heard him approach. He opened the door with a flourish, carried a large black box similar to the one my skates had arrived in. He gave me a grin, looked at me over his glasses.

“Ah ha, you’re here,” he said as he put the box down, his face giddy.

“I have been for almost half an hour,” I pointed out.

Tony shrugged, gestured to the box. He was like a child on Christmas.

“Well open it then,” he said impatiently, nudged it towards me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, gave him a curious look as I opened the lid. I pulled out a white suit, embellished with lines of gold. The material was thick, sturdy but also lightweight. There was a sleeveless halter top that would fasten around my neck in a thick collar, and form fitting trousers with sturdy white boots. I stared at the opalescent garment in awe while Tony watched over me in anticipation.

“Do you like it?” he pushed.

“Is this…” I trailed off.

“Your very own suit? Sure is. It’s fire retardant, water resistant, shock absorbent. Hooked Peter up with a snazzy little number too. Didn’t he tell you?” Tony asked as he walked over to the wall.

“No,” I swallowed as I put the garment down.

“No he didn’t.”

Tony gave me a quizzical look, as if that surprised him, before he produced a set of fingerless gloves and a belt of shining golden orbs.

“These orbs contain water,” he gestured to the ones embossed with midnight blue flames, “and these contain flint and gasoline for fire,” he tapped the printed ruby flames.

I took them in my hands, studied their weight. The water inside sloshed around as I pushed the belt into the box.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

Tony’s face fell, confirmed my suspicion that something was going no. He walked to the other wall, traced the rim of a discarded shield.

“A fight’s going down, Amy. Cap is helping a fugitive, breaking the law. You said to me yourself that you think heroes should have limits,” he pointed out.

It was true. My own power came with great risks, and being allowed to go around, unaccountable for my actions, was not beneficial to the world. Peter had agreed, his moral compass unswayable. I eyed Tony, knew what he was going to ask of me.

“So where’s the fight?” I asked.

Tony gave me a smile, patted me on the shoulder.

“Happy will pick you and Peter up tomorrow, take you to the airport,” he informed me, cleverly dodged my question.

I nodded, stroked the new suit. Tomorrow, I would fight people who had done nothing but been kind to me. Tomorrow, the world would know who I was.

“I need a superhero name.” The words came out of my mouth without warning.

Peter looked up, halfway through taking a bite of his burrito. It was almost midnight, but I didn’t feel tired. I was too excited, too anxious, about tomorrow. We’d stuck on Avatar, were on the season two finale. We sat next to each other on the sofa but kept our distance.

“Like what kind?” he asked, suddenly quite serious.

I shrugged, turned back to the TV as I thought.

“Are Zuko and Katara gunna get together or what?” I mused, and Peter choked on his bite.

“What?? No!” he almost screeched.

I laughed as he shook his head, clearly pissed off by my suggestion. He picked the rice from his shirt, shot me a disappointed look.

“Aang and Katara are OTP,” he stated plainly, to which I cocked a brow.

“What I waste,” I mused, and before Peter could explode into a tyrade of why that wasn’t canon, I changed the subject.

“So come on then, what should I be called?” I asked, turned in on the sofa to face him.

He crossed his legs, shifted towards me as he reached for a notebook. Our knees touched, and my breath caught at the connection. We hadn’t touched since that night, and a thrill of electricity ran up my leg as he popped open a pen.

“You want something cool, edgy, but not douchy,” he began to jot some things down as I tried to think.

“Shouldn’t it be related to my powers?” I asked, produced a flame to light his writing.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said as he scribbled away, his tongue stuck out in concentration.

I leant forward, tried to catch a glimpse of what he wrote, but he pulled away, gave me a grin.

“Let me see,” I insisted, tried to snatch at the notebook, but he pulled back again, too quick for me.

I folded my arms, mock pouted at him, which he found hilarious. He laughed as he made a final addition, before he put the pen down, fixed me with an exaggerated expression.

“Amy. Are you ready to meet your new name?” he asked, his voice comedic.

I nudged his knee with my toe.

“Yes you weirdo, just go,” I urged.

“First up is Starbright,” he offered, to which I scrunched up my nose.

“Starbright? That sounds like a my little pony, no way,”

“Okay, second is Captain Flameo,” he did a funny gesture with his hands, and I broke into laughter.

“You’ve got to be joking,” I spluttered through my giggles.

Peter smiled, shrugged as he crossed it off.

“Lightbringer?”

“Like Game of Thrones?”

“Mind Bender?”

“Nope,”

“The Waife?”

At the word I paused, chewed it over.

“Isn’t that already a word?” I asked.

Peter shrugged, showed me his piece of paper. There were many combinations of the letters W, E, F, A, some that made no sense, some that were kind of alright. Waife was circled three times.

“I don’t know, I made it up,” he said, pulled out his phone.

I shifted closer to look, our shoulders touching.

“Waif - a living creature removed, by hardship, loss or other helpless circumstance, from its original surroundings. The most common usage of the word is to designate a homeless, forsaken or orphaned child,” he trailed off, cast me a look to see if I was offended.

Yet I wasn’t. I was someone plucked from normalcy, given these powers, given this life, taken from my world and bought into this one. I liked it.

“The Waife,” I repeated with a smile.

We sat in silence as the reality of our situation dawned on us. Tomorrow, we would fight, and there was a possibility we might come out of it seriously injured, regardless of Tony’s upgraded suits. We sat very still, sides pressed together, and when I looked at Peter I saw there was worry in his eyes. I reached out and took his hand, laced my fingers through his.

“We’re going to be okay. We just have to look out for each other, like Tony said,” I reassured him.

He nodded, turned to meet my eyes. In the shadow of the living room it was easy to imagine that no one else in the world existed; that it was us, and only us, on this entire planet. Our faces were close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek, and despite everything I felt the urge to kiss him. I wanted to, and it shocked me in the moment how much I wanted to. His hand in mine was clammy from nerves, and I could feel the buzz of his thoughts. I burned to know if he wanted to kiss me too, but I didn’t want to intrude, to overstep. His lips parted, and for a moment I thought he might lean forward, close the distance between us and kiss me. Then, his phone began to buzz, and he pulled back, rushed to pick it up.

“Hey Liz, what’s up?” at the mention of her name my heart sunk.

I stood from the sofa, moved stiffly to the bedroom as he continued to talk to her. I’d been foolish to think he wanted me, foolish to think anything at all. I double checked my bag for tomorrow, made sure my suit was hidden at the bottom of the suitcase. I climbed into bed, my mattress finally dry, fresh sheets on. I closed my eyes, forced myself to stay still. I pretended to sleep even after he hung up the phone. I heard him come into the room, stop at the foot of the bed. I kept my eyes closed as he exhaled.

“Amy?” he tried, but I didn’t respond.

He sighed, swore under his breath, before he too got into bed.

I laid awake even after he fell asleep. His dreams were so loud they practically sucked me in.

_We were at Liz’s party. Through his eyes I saw myself, beautiful and ethereal. I saw my smile, I heard my laugh, I felt my waist in his hands on the street. The image flickered, and there was a dark room again. A girl sat on a table, and Peter between her legs, his hands in her hair. They kissing, touching, moaning, and when she reached for the button of his jeans, he gave a sigh._

The dream ended abruptly as he woke. I could sense that he hadn’t gotten off by the still raging desire in his thoughts. I wondered why in his dreams he never had sex with the girl, why they never did more than PG 13 kissing and groping, and then I realised that, much like myself, he’d probably never had sex. I heard him rustling for tissues, and I felt the breath go out of me as he groaned. I felt a tingling in my stomach as he began touching himself, his thoughts to intoxicating, so all-consuming that I couldn’t help myself.

I rolled onto my back, and he stilled, waited. I pretended to mutter something in my sleep to put him at ease. I knew what I was about to do was stupid, was selfish and childish, but I didn’t care. Some selfish part of me wanted it more than reason. So when he started touching himself again, I let out a soft whimper. Again he stopped, and I could feel the mixture of fear and arousal pulsing through the bedframe. I tossed over, as if in fitful sleep, and whimpered again, a sexual, wanting noise.

“Amy,” he whispered, just to double check.

I didn’t reply. I moaned, barely above a whisper, and I heard his breath leave his mouth in a rush. A thrill went through me as I heard him moving, his hand on his cock. I turned over again to keep up the rouse, moaned into my pillow. He groaned in response, and every shake of the bedframe sent my pulse racing. It was exhilarating, knowing he was reacting this way, knowing what affect I was having on him. I mumbled, whimpered, and his pace quickened. I tried to restrain my smile as I turned over again, faced into the room so my voice was clearer for what I was about to say. I felt he was near the edge, his pace uneven and uncontrolled, and I smiled.

“Please,” I whimpered, and the groan of his release sent a hot flush of want through my stomach.

I forced my eyes closed, let my mouth hang open and snored as he laid there, chest heaving.

“Shit,” he whispered, before he went to the bathroom.

When he came back, I pretended to stir, squinted at him as if I’d only just woken.

“You okay?” I asked innocently, made my voice sound tired.

I couldn’t see him properly in the darkness, but I knew he was blushing.

“Fine!” he squeaked, then cursed.

“Fine,” he said a bit clearer.

“See you in the morning,” I said, rolled over with a grin.


	13. The Airport

I’d never been on a private plane. As I lounged back in the leather seat, looked out over the sprawling land as it turned from France to Germany, I felt more grateful that I ever had. Peter sat across from me, his suit already on. It clung to his skin, red and blue and high tech. His mask sat in his lap, his hair ruffled, and every time he met my eyes, he blushed.

“You should probably get changed soon,” Peter said, gestured to the bag on the seat next to me.

“He’s right. Thirty minutes to landing,” Happy called from where he sat up front.

I pushed myself up, stretched my kinked muscles. I felt Peter’s eyes on me, and I smiled.

“Alright,” I said as I grabbed my bag, headed to the bathroom.

I changed, pulled on the suit, which clung to my curves in a way that made me flush. I pulled at the thick collar that felt more like a choker, rubbed my bare arms. I felt powerful and sexy and yet still insecure. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about last night. Having someone do that over you, it should take away all your insecurities.

I pulled my hair into two French braids, tugged on the gloves. The belt hung low on my hips, and I practiced grabbing for one, tried to perfect the motion. After a few tries I opened the bathroom door, walked back to my seat. Any insecurities I’d had shrivelled into nonexistence as Peter’s eyes raked me over, and he thought one word.

_Damn._

The airport had been evacuated long before we got there. Tony had instructed us to wait patiently for his signal in the rafters of a hanger, and we waited, a clear view from the side of the field. They were talking, although the look on Steve’s face told me the conversation wasn’t going well. Everyone was there, even a man I didn’t recognise in a red suit. Peter fidgeted impatiently, pulled at his mask.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Peter replied.

“Me too,” I said, nerves as thick as vines in my stomach.

Peter looked at me, pulled his mask up so I could meet his eyes. I got the feeling he wanted to say something, that he wanted to say lots of things, but he didn’t have the words. It occurred to me then that maybe we wouldn’t make it out of this, maybe this would be the last chance I had to say anything at all to him. Fear clutched at me as I tried to find my own words. I liked him, I did, but it felt like it was more complicated than that. He reached forward and took my hand, gave it a squeeze.

“I have your back,” he said.

“And I have yours,” I replied.

Maybe that’s all we needed to say. Regardless of whether there was more, Tony shouted the signal, and Peter grabbed me by the waist, swung us towards the field. He let me go a few meters from the ground, and I used my limited air abilities to float gently to the ground. Peter webbed Steve’s arms together, stole his shield. I held my hands up, ready to take the ground from under their feet.

“Nice shield man. Look, Mr. Stark I did it,” he held up the shield, pointed at it excitedly.

“Nice going kid,” Tony praised.

Steve held up his arms, and an arrow flew through as Clint freed him.

“If you won’t move, we’ll move you,” Steve said.

Tony shrugged, seemly unphased.

“Go ahead Captain,” Tony said.

“Alright then,”

They moved towards us, left us no choice but to go for them. My heart thumped in my throat as I kept up with the line of heroes.

“I don’t think they’re stopping Mr. Stark,” Peter said nervously.

“Neither are we kid,” Tony said.

I could feel all their minds humming, yet as we reached the intersect, as Tony’s fist connected with Steve’s shield, everyone’s minds quietened into focus.

Falcon lunged for me, and I tried to remember Natasha’s training, ducked low to avoid his wings. He missed, and as he swooped back I called a chunk of earth to my fingers, launched it at him. It connected hard with his chest, and he barrelled backwards, flew right to join Bucky, who was running the to airport.

“Bring them down,” Tony called to Peter and I.

I focused on the earth between them and the airport, knelt down to touch the ground. I reached out for the fibres, felt the layers of dirt, and then pulled. A large crack appeared between them and escape, expanded a meter, two meters, and they skidded to a hault as Peter swung towards them.

Someone connected with my side, knocked the wind out of me, and I rolled, gasped for breath as my connection with the earth was lost. The man I didn’t know rolled off of me, and before I could do anything to retaliate, he shrunk down and disappeared.

I looked around, confused and lost, went to turn my attention back to Bucky and Falcon, who had made it into the airport. I reached for the airports roof, about to bring it down, when something invisible connected with my arm. I let out a yelp as another hit my leg, and I fell to my knees. The man turned back to real size, grinned down at me.

“I’m Scott by the-” with a flick of my wrist I sent him flying in a pile of earth and rubble.

I stood, winced past the pain in my body. I couldn’t see Peter, but I didn’t have time to worry about him as an arrow came towards me arm. I barely ducked, drew a ball from my belt and flipped it open. I manipulated the water into a tendril, a third, malleable arm, and threw it towards Clint. The water wrapped around his bow, and I pulled hard enough to make him drop it. Before I could bring it to me, disarm him for good, my feet left the ground in a blur of red.

Wanda lifted me from the ground, her hands almost invisible through the red mist of her powers. She lifted me higher and higher, and I fumbled for the ball of flinch. I threw it at her, and it exploded, doused the ground around her feet in lighter fluid. She raised a brow as she kept me suspended.

“You think a little water will hurt me?” she asked almost amused.

I returned her smile, opened my palm.

“No, but fire will.” I shot a beam of burning red flames towards her, and she screamed as the ground blazed.

Distracted, her hold on me fell, and I tumbled to towards the ground.

“I got you!” Peter swung, caught me before I could smack into the earth.

“Where have you been?” I gasped as we flew through the air.

“Webbed Bucky and the Falcon in the airport. So cool!” he said eagerly.

There was no time for congratulations. Clint shot an arrow, and it sliced through Peter’s webbing, send us flying. He wrapped his arms around me, absorbed most of the shock of the earth as we hit it and rolled. We barely had time to catch our breath before cars began tumbling from the three story behind us. We rolled, barely dodged the torrent of metal as it came to squash us. Tony and Rhodes were caught in the fray, tried to shoot as many cars down as they could.

“Get out of here kid,” Tony shouted at Peter as Rhodes scooped me up, flew me from harm.

He set me down, and was almost instantly attacked by Falcon, who seemed to have found his way our of Peter’s webbing. I flung chunk after chunk of earth after him, tried to catch the edge of his wings. My arms ached from the movement, and when someone collided into my back, I was almost grateful for the rest.

I toppled to the ground, my elbow twinged as blood ran from grazes on my shoulders. I rolled, looked up at Bucky. He pinned me down, hands on my wrists. I wriggled, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Stay down kid,” he warned.

I quirked a brow as I called to the water in my orbs.

“Get up? Okay.” The water pushed up with a force that knocked Bucky off of me, and while he was down, I used it to freeze his legs to the ground.

I opened my mouth to gloat, but an explosion turned my head. Scott stood huge and towering over the aeroplanes, and I gawked as he slammed his huge hands into the earth. The metallic swoosh of Cap’s shield registered too late for me to react, and when it connected with the side of my head, stars burst over my eyes. I barely felt my body hit the ground as my thoughts jumbled, and my hands shook, my eyes burnt in instant defence. Fire exploded from my hands as I tried to sit up blindly, and a hiss of pain told me that the fire had found its mark. I blinked hazily, my head ringing as my vision came back as a blur. Steve and Bucky were gone, and I watched in a daze as Peter wrapped his webbing around Scott’s legs, and Tony and Rhodes toppled him. As Scott fell, he swiped at Peter, hit him hard.

“Peter!” I yelled, jumped to my feet as he hit the ground.

Hard.

I ran at him, and when Wanda tried to dive for me, I had no patience. I manipulated the rest of the water in my orbs at her in spiralling icicles. She tried to weave, but they dropped around her like a cage, pinned her in. I bent the earth under her feet, wove it up around her legs to trap her further, encased her hands in hard balls of earth. She glared at me, but I moved past her without a second thought. My eyes blazed as I dropped at Peter’s side.

He wasn’t moving.

“Pete,” I whispered, turned him over.

He struggled, assumed I was an attacker, but when his eyes landed on me he relaxed. Tony landed next to us, helmet pulled up.

“You’re done kid. Go home. Both of you,” he ordered.

Peter tried to rise, but he winced, fell back against the earth.

“Mr. Stark,” he began, but Tony shook his head, cut him off.

“Home. Now,” he said, before he flew off.

Peter huffed, annoyed he’d got himself hurt. I helped him to his feet, and we limped as the fight continued behind us.

“You did really great,” I said.

“Yeah right,” he mumbled.

“No really, you saved my ass a few times,” I reassured, which made him smile.

“I already told you. I’m not gunna let anything bad happen to you,”

I smiled, tried not to let him see my blush as we made our way to the waiting car.

_“Amy! Amy!”_

_My sister was screaming. She was screaming, and I couldn’t see her._

_“Amy please,” my mother begged._

_They were in pain, and I had to help them. I had to get them away from whoever was hurting them._

_“Amy stop!” Willow shouted._

_My vision cleared as if a blindfold had been removed, and the three of them sat strapped to chairs, flames licking at their skin. I looked down to see those very same flames coming from my fingertips._

_I looked up in horror, but it was too late. They were already dead, burnt and charred and unrecognisable._

I woke with tears on my cheeks. I rubbed them away roughly as I looked around. We were still on the plane back from Germany, still in our tattered, dirty suits. There hadn’t been time to change, hadn’t been time to even wipe the blood from our skin. Peter stirred across from me, blinked sleepily.

“Nightmare?” he asked, and I nodded.

He scooted up on the double seat, gestured for me to come over. He didn’t have to offer twice. I moved into the seat, allowed him to wrap his arms around me, pull the covers over my shoulder. He leant his head on mine as I settled into his chest, sniffed at the tears that still threatened to fall. His suit smelt of ash and dirt, but that didn’t matter as he pulled my hair out of its braids.

“They’re just dreams,” he reassured me as I closed my eyes.

“I know. Thank you,” I replied as I listened to his heart beating in his chest.

For a while we sat there in silence, breathing, existing. Then, Peter shifted uncomfortably, and I could feel from his aura that he wanted to say something.

I pulled back, met his eyes.

“So… you know Homecomings on its way, right?” he asked.

I nodded. It was something I’d been looking forward to, dancing with Megan, dressing up, the music and the after party. It felt like a slice of normalcy in an otherwise weird and wonderful world.

“Do you have a date?” he asked.

“Yeah, I do.” I replied without thinking.

He looked at me, his face blank. It occurred to me then that he might have been about to ask me, and I kicked myself. Megan wasn’t a date, she was a friend. She totally would have understood.

“Yeah, me too. Liz asked so…” he trailed off.

I nodded. Liz. Of course.

“So, what, you want to car share? Megan is renting a limo,” I said, and Peter nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what I was gunna ask,” he said.

“I’ll ask her when we land,” I said, the conversation over.

I settled back into his chest, but it didn’t feel the same. We both felt stiff, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d done something wrong.


	14. To Touch And To Feel

By the time we got back to May’s, we were both exhausted. I trudged through the living room, already unzipping my top. My shoulders twinged as the fabric brushed against the grazes on my shoulder, and I winced as my top fell to the floor, left me in my bra.

“You should… I mean I should clean those for you,” Peter said, gestured to the cuts on my shoulder.

I nodded, too tired to feel awkward or nervous. I sat on the island as Peter filled a bowl with hot water, took some antiseptic and a few clothes from the first aid box. I grit my teeth as he swiped the clothes across my bloody skin, rinsed the rag out. His fingers were splayed across my back as he continued to wipe my skin clean. I could feel how nervous he was, seeing me in my bra, but it had been a long day, and I didn’t care much for modesty. Once my skin was clear, he dabbed antiseptic onto some cotton wool began to treat the wounds. I hissed, curled my fingers around the top of the island to hold myself steady. His other hand moved down my back, rested at my waist as he did my other shoulder. He was so close to me, his cheek mere millimetres from my lips. I was afraid that if I spoke they’d brush against his skin, and I wouldn’t be able to contain how I felt.

My stomach twisted with weeks of pent-up desire. I hadn’t dared touch myself, not with the risk of him hearing me the way I heard him. Yet I yearned for it. Every night, I waited up in the hopes to hear him moan again, to even just get a little fix. I realised I’d been staring at him as he pulled back, and I looked down, rolled my shoulders experimentally. The skin pulled, but the burning had subsided.

“Shall I do you now?” I asked bluntly, then cringed at the double entendre of my words.

He swallowed audibly, before he nodded. I slipped from the island, came face to face with him for a tense moment. He looked down at me with burning eyes, and it was my turn to swallow hard.

He cleared his throat, gently moved me out of the way as he hopped up on the island. I emptied the dirty water with shaking hands, filled the bowl back up. When I turned, I almost dropped it. He was shirtless now too, and under the lights of the kitchen I could see the cut of his muscles more clearly. His abdomen was toned, the ripple of a sixpack. I set the bowl down and looked at the cut on his side. I put my shaking hands on his skin, tried to see how deep it was. I felt him tense under my hands, but I tried not to take notice as I swiped the cloth over the wound. I took longer than I should have to clean it, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin. I lingered with every movement, bit my lip as I switched to antiseptic. His fingers tightened on his knees, and all I could imagine was what his fingers would feel like on my waist, my thighs, around my neck…

“Do you think I’ll need stitches?” he asked.

I shook my head, my cheeks burnt as I reached for a band aid.

“No, you’re good,” I said as I opened the bandage, then smoothed it across his skin.

I straightened, met his eyes again. I stood between his legs, and it would have been so easy to kiss him, to grab him by his belt and pull him to me. Yet I did none of those things. Not when I knew he liked Liz. I stepped back, rinsed my hands off in the sink.

“I’m gunna get some rest,” I said, went to the bedroom without waiting for him.

I shucked off my trousers, didn’t even bother to put on any pyjamas as I climbed into bed. He followed suit, stripped off and settled beneath me. I tossed and turned, felt frayed beyond relaxation. I wanted so badly to get off, to release. I turned over again, shoved my head into the pillow in frustration.

“Peter?” I called.

No response.

“Pete,” I said again.

Nothing. I turned over slowly, as to not make any noise. I waited, listened to his breathing. Sound asleep. I let out a breath as I pushed my hand below the waistband of my underwear. A shudder ran through me as I circled my clit, dipped down to find I was already wet. I closed my eyes as I began to rub tight circles, already worked up. I imagined the dark room of Peter’s dreams but instead of a girl shrouded in darkness, I imagined myself. I imagined Peter kissing my neck, his hands on my waist. I imagined him grinning against the hollow of my neck as he sunk his teeth into my skin. I imagined his hands under my bra.

I moaned, threw my head back as I felt myself coming close. I heard Peter shift underneath me as he woke up, but I no longer cared. I moaned as I quickened my pace, desperate for release, desperate to let my frustrations go. I imagined Peter’s hands in the place of mine, and the thought sent me over the edge. I came hard, a build up of weeks of frustration, whimpered as quietly as I could, my back arched. As I fell back against the sheets, panting, I felt Peter’s own desire radiating through the bedframe. I pushed myself up, climbed down the ladder. When I got to the bottom, we locked eyes, and in that moment, I thought I could be brave enough to get into bed with him, to get him off. Instead, I turned and went to the bathroom, washed my hands and brushed my teeth.

Peter was still awake when I returned, his eyes followed me as I got back into bed.


	15. Tears Of A Homecoming Queen

“So who are you taking to Homecoming?” Megan asked, lounged over the edge of her bed as she flicked through a history textbook.

I looked up, frowned at her.

“I thought we were going together?” I asked.

She merely shrugged.

“Yeah but Jack asked me,” she said.

I stared at her slack jawed, and she gave me a smile.

“Come on you’ll find someone!” she encouraged.

I shook my head, stood up from my place on the floor. I paced back and forth, gnawed on my nail. I told Peter I had a date. If I showed up alone, without even Megan I’d look like a liar and a loser.

“It’s literally tomorrow,” I reminded her, which didn’t seem to phase her.

“There will be some desperate guy,” she said offhandedly.

“Gee, thanks,” I replied sarcastically.

She got up from her seat, put her hands on my shoulders.

“You know what I mean. I heard Flash doesn’t have a date,” she offered, to which I pulled a face.

“There’s a reason for that,” I said.

Ugh, not Flash. Please not Flash.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she said.

“I’m only a beggar because you betrayed me!” I remined her.

She settled at her desk, gave a smile in the mirror.

“I’ve been crushing on Jack since I was like ten. Come on, don’t you know how that feels?” she asked.

I turned from her, because I didn’t want her to see that I did know how it felt. I wanted more than anything to go with Peter, but he had Liz, and there was no hope for us. I crossed my arms, frowned at her wall.

“DM Flash then, I can’t get social media on mine,”

I felt like I was going to throw up.

I stood in Megan’s living room, my heart beating a mile a minute. I felt uncomfortable in my homecoming dress, pulled at the deep v anxiously. It shimmered with embellished lined of gold, and I shivered as the AC hit my bare back.

Megan and Jack stood a little way off, talking in hushed tones. He’d managed to match her corsage to her yellow dress, and when she giggled I felt my heart squeeze. Flash stood beside me on his phone, shifted impatiently.

“God where is this limo man? I could have taken a helicopter you know,” he informed me for the fifth time tonight.

I ignored him, pulled at the corsage he’d given me. It was far too elaborate and heavy, weavings of white roses and gold leaves that almost took up half my arm. Megan shot me an apologetic look as she looked at her phone.

“It says five minutes,” she said, to which Flash rolled his eyes.

“Yeah whatever,” he said, before he leant in close, produced a flask from his pocket.

“You know, we could have had a magical night without these losers. Champagne in the heli, a little make out over Manhattan,” he raised his eyebrows, put his hand on my back.

I flinched.

“Plus where’s Petey huh? I thought you said he was coming to this thing?” He asked.

I felt a twinge of pain run through my chest as I thought about Peter. We hadn’t spoken since that night, and he’d text me saying him and Liz were getting a lift with her father. Every time I looked at him, he ducked his head and looked away. He must have thought me disgusting, stupid, embarrassing.

The limo pulled up outside, gave me an excuse to wriggle out of Flash’s grip. I stepped onto the street and took a deep breath.

Tonight was going to be no fun at all.

Flash had tried to grope at me throughout the journey, touching my thigh, my shoulders, my waist. Before the limo even came to a full stop I leapt out, hurtled up the school steps. Couples were moving about the hallways, the music thrummed through the gym, and I made a beeline for the dance floor, hoping Flash wouldn’t be able to find me. I saw Ned by the drinks table and let out a sign of relief as I made my way over to him.

“Thank god you’re here,” I said as I reached him, took a drink from the table.

“Not having a good night?” he asked with a knowing smile.

When I raised my eyebrows, he shrugged.

“Pete told me you were coming here with Flash,” he said.

“He did?” I asked.

I hadn’t thought he was interested. I mean, he’d been angry, that was for sure. He’d asked me why on earth I was going with him after he threw me in the pool, and when I hadn’t answered, he’d shaken his head and stormed off. I wondered what he’d said to Ned, if he’d berated me, called me names. I sipped at my drink to take my mind off of it, searched the crowd for his face. I found him, laughing with Liz, and despite my vow that I would try, that I would come here, have fun, have a normal life, I knew I couldn’t stand by and watch.

“You should have asked him,” Ned said, clearly sensed my anguish.

I took a deep breath, my eyes stuck on the two of them.

“He was already coming with Liz,” I replied.

“You think he wouldn’t have cancelled?” Ned asked, and I managed to tear my eyes away for a second to meet his gaze.

He was smiling, that knowing, superior smile that people who knew things had. Had I assumed the worst without surveying the facts? I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unsure what I’d say. Peter had asked me, and when I’d said I had a date, he had said he did too. Had him bringing it up been to ask me? For a moment I felt a glimmer of hope, and I looked back to Peter, took in his warm smile and kind eyes. I walked towards him, hands shaking at my sides, as I thought about what I was going to say. I had to know, I had to know if I’d ruined things, if maybe I could salvage something. I let out a breath as I neared them, but as I approached, only a few steps away, the world fell into slow motion.

Liz leant forward, her eyes slipped closed, and she pressed her lips to his. All the colour and light drained from the world as I recoiled, felt as if I’d been poked at with something burning. My feet faltered as the world frozen, and all I could see was them. Their lips pressed together, her hands on his shoulders. Tears rose in my eyes and I turned, bumped into Flash. He put his hands out to steady me, but I pushed him away.

“Come on, can’t I at least hold your ass for one dance?” he called after me as I ran from the hall.

I could barely even breathe. My tears caught in my throat as I stumbled into the night air. As I descended the steps my ankle twisted, pain lanced up my calf, and I cursed, bent down and yanked off my heels. I threw the shoe with all the strength I could muster, sunk onto the steps, buried my head in my hands. My stomach contracted with every sob, and as I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes I thought that maybe it would have been better if the goddess had let me die. The pain filled my chest until it felt ready to burst, and I felt so stupid for feeling this way over a boy. Yet it felt like more than that, more than just a crush, more than something stupid and temporary. He made me feel whole.

“Amy.” His voice sent a spear of pain through my chest, and I looked up, furiously wiped my cheeks.

“Shouldn’t you be with Liz? You looked like you were having fun in there,” I said bitterly.

Peter sat down beside me, his brows drawn low over his eyes.

“Why are you crying? What did Flash do?” he asked, his fists balled.

I ran a hand through my hair, wiped my face again. For a moment I thought I couldn’t face him, couldn’t look at him at all, but then my eyes were drawn to his, and I felt a surge of confidence and power that allowed me to speak.

“Flash didn’t do anything. I’m crying because… because I saw her kiss you, okay?” I said in a rush, and I saw confusion flash behind his eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I barrelled on, afraid of what he might say.

“I know I said I had a date, but I meant Megan, and then she got a date, and then I didn’t have one, but you did, and I didn’t want to be alone. And I know it’s stupid but I don’t want to see her with you. I guess that makes me selfish,” I finally finished.

I balled my hands in my lap to stop them shaking. He blinked, let out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. He stared at the sky in thought, and I saw stars, whole galaxies, reflected in his eyes. When he finally met my gaze again there was an edge to his eyes that I didn’t quite understand.

“And what do you want?” he asked.

My breath caught in my throat as my heart leapt. I shook my head, unsure. I let my hands drop to my sides, and our fingers brushed against the stone. As I stared at the road, tried to think about how to answer that question, his pinkie finger locked with mine. my eyes flitted to his, before I looked at our hands, so close and yet so far. In the silence his hand moved to take mine, and my chest heaved as his other hand found my chin. He tilted my face up, and just when I thought I might die he kissed me.

Every nerve in my body sung as his hand moved to cup my cheek. Something sweet and warm spread through my veins as his lips moved against mine, and all I could do was try to keep breathing. I pushed my shaking fingers into his hair, and as I pulled at the silky strands, he let out a hard breath. He inched closer, his other hand first on my waist as he kissed me harder. My heart beat frantically in my ears as my fingers moved down his neck to grip his shirt, and I pulled him towards me, desperate and impatient. He let out a groan before he pulled back. We sat there catching our breaths, his lips swollen and red. Need pulsed in my veins as my chest heaved.

“I’m sorry if that was… I mean I didn’t mean to,” I cut him off as I pressed me lips to his again.

I wanted him to push further, I wanted him to grab me, to bite my lip. I trusted him, wholly and utterly, in a way I knew I would never trust another man with my body. All thoughts of Brad, of what he’d almost done to me, disappeared and were replaced by my feelings for Peter, by the softness of his lips and the hesitance of his hands. I could feel the anxiety radiate from him, mixed with his own desires. His hands fumbled on my waist, nervous and unsure. I pulled back, realised I was probably coming on too strong, shuffled back. Peter smiled goofily, hung his head in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t really had much experience,” he said, his cheeks red.

“Me either,” I replied, sheepish.

I’d let my desire get the better of me, I’d let it control me, and that wasn’t fair. Peter was sweet and kind and soft, and I couldn’t expect the kind of roughness that my desires demanded.

He took my hand, helped me stand. The music from the gym was just audible, and as a slow song started to play Peter pulled me into his arms. We swayed back and forth, my head on his shoulders, his hands on my waist. I smiled into his neck, gripped him more firmly, afraid that if I let go for even a second, he would disappear. His lips against my ear made me shiver, and my stomach clenched.

“Do you wanna go home?” he asked.

I nodded, looked up at him through my lashes. He leant down and kissed me again, and the whole world ceased to exist.


	16. Not Yet

We were quiet on the way home, hands pressed tightly together. It had been almost awkward, and as we neared the apartment, I felt like maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe neither of us were ready, maybe neither of us knew what we were getting into. As we went into his room, my nerves intensified as we paused, looked at the bunk beds. It had been different before, sleeping in such close proximity, but now, the thought made my heart race.

“I’ll let you get changed,” he said, made for the door.

My hand shot out, wrapped around his wrist to stop him. In the darkness of the room his face was no more than shadows, but I saw the brightness of his eyes shift as he turned back to me, his shoulders tense.

“Stay,” I whispered.

He hesitated, his arm still tense, as if he might pull away. I tightened my grip.

“Please.” I knew it was a low blow by the way he sucked in a breath, but I didn’t want him to go.

I thought back to that night, the way he’d moaned over me, and my cheeks burnt with a mix of nerves and want.

“Unzip me,” I asked, turned and pulled my hair out of the way.

I jumped when his hands landed on my shoulders, his fingers shook slightly as he took the zip in his hand. He pulled it down slowly, his hands grazed my ass as he did. When it was done, his hands lingered momentarily on my hips, before he stepped away, sat down on his bed with a thump. I turned back to him, pushed the straps down my shoulders. His eyes followed every move hungrily as the dress fell down my shoulders. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and as the dress fell past my breasts his eyes widened, his grip on the sheets intensified. I pushed the dress down my hips to expose the grey boy shorts I wore. I hadn’t exactly expected to be standing naked in front of anyone, but by the look on his face it didn’t matter. I tried not to flinch, feeling exposed under his eyes. His lips were parted, his eyes darted up and down my body as if he couldn’t take it all in. I stepped towards him, took his tie in my hands, pulled it off. He looked up at me, met my eyes with a helpless stare. I reached down, took his hands, which were shaking, and put them on my waist. He exhaled a breath, closed his eyes as I unbuttoned his shirt. My hands skimmed across his chest, down to his waist as I finished the buttons, then I pushed the shirt off. His hands were pressed hard into my waist, so hard it was almost painful.

“Amy…” he trailed off, pulled me forward.

I fell into his lap, my thighs either side of his hips. My heart raced as he leant up to capture my lips, more urgent than before. His hands found the small of my back, pulled me closer, and as my nipples brushed his chest I moaned. Something about hearing me moan must have triggered something in him, because I felt the wave of his desire heighten as his fingers tightened on my skin. He leant back until he was lying down, pulled me on top of him. Our lips moved endlessly as we panted, and as his hands skimmed up my back he pulled back, met my eyes.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, his hands braced against my shoulder blades.

I nodded. I didn’t think I could speak. I bent and kissed him again, harder this time, and his hands moved to cup my breasts. He groaned as his thumb pressed against my nipple, and I felt him harden through his trousers. His hands were unsure, slow, but when he squeezed, probably harder than he meant to, I broke my lips from his and moaned. He stared up at me like I was a goddess in my own right, like I could rule the world, like I could bring even the mightiest hero to their knees, and as I rocked against him, felt the hardness between his legs, and watched him scrunch his eyes closed in pleasure, I thought maybe I could.

“Amy wait, please,” he managed to say, his hands on my hips firm.

I looked down at him, cocked a brow. He took a few breaths, met my eyes.

“I don’t want to rush. I want to wait. Please,” he begged.

I nodded, although I felt a little upset. Was it that he didn’t want me? Was it that he didn’t want to lose something so special to me? I climbed off of him, settled into his side. He pulled the covers over us both, wrapped me up in his arms and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Not yet, okay?” he asked, and I nodded despite the doubt that plagued me.


	17. Shopping For More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets steamy, so M for mature themes and sexy time

“So we’re going shopping for what exactly?” Natasha asked as the cab pulled to a stop outside a row of boutiques.

It had been a month since the homecoming dance, a month of happiness and talking and kisses and trust. Peter and I had grown closer that we’d ever been, and yet every time we kissed, every time it got a little heated, he pulled away. It was beginning to hurt, and instead of wallowing in self pity, I had decided to do something about it.

“You know, I am suppose to be on the hunt for Steve and the others. I have more important things to do,” Natasha reminded me.

I knew that all too well. Tony had asked me twice to reach out to find the escaped Avengers, but both times had been unsuccessful. I turned to her, wringed my hands.

“Lingerie shopping,” I said in a meek voice.

She raised a brow. It felt stupid now, asking her to come with me, but I didn’t want to ask Megan, and I certainly couldn’t ask May. I wanted to feel sexy, and I wanted Peter to think I was sexy, and given Natasha’s breath-taking sex appeal, I thought maybe she could help. She smiled, gave a laugh.

“I thought something was going on between you and that spider boy,” she said with a smirk as she got out the cab.

I paid the man, who looked me up and down in a way that made my skin crawl, before I followed Nat. We’d parked outside a large lingerie store, and through the window I saw lacy body suits, push up bras and sex outfits that slightly terrified me. Natasha cast me a sideways glance, hands on her hips.

“He’s not pressuring you, is he?” she asked softly, all jokes aside.

I shook my head vehemently, my cheeks burnt.

“No! No, its kind of the opposite actually. Every time we… you know, start heading towards that direction, he stops. I think maybe he doesn’t find me attractive or something,” I hung my head, hands deep in my pockets.

“I hardly think that’s it, but if you want to get some stuff, I can help you,” she said, put a hand on my shoulder.

I smiled up at her, nervous and excited all at once. She lead me into the shop, suddenly as focused as she would have been on any mission. She made a beeline for the rack of bodysuits, rifled through them with a keen eye while I stood there anxiously to the side, too useless to know what to look for. She pulled out a red velvet bodysuit with a deep v, a transparent lacy navy blue one, a white slip and a sheer champagne babydoll. She dropped them into my arms, moved to the bras. She looked me up and down, as if trying to work out what would suit me best, before she pulled some matching sets. A black sheer bra and thong set embellished with royal blue embroidery in the shape of flowers, pale pink halter bralette and cheeky underwear, and a three-piece emerald satin set with a push up bra, thong and garter belt. I stood there motionless as she picked out an unlined yellow bra and high waisted Brazilian underwear, gave me a coy smile.

“Do you want to try them on?” she asked.

I shook my head. I couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing. Plus, I trusted she’d picked out the right sizes, she seemed to know what she was doing. She shrugged, looked at the cashier.

“You want me to buy them?” she asked, and I nodded again, passed her my card.

She took them out my hands, nodded back to the street.

“Go wait.”

I did, and as I left the store I couldn’t help but feel like she was a cool big sister, or an awesome aunt. I waited in the night, toed the sidewalk. She came out quickly, bags in hand, gave me back my card.

“Do you want some advice?” she asked as she handed me the bags.

“Yes please,” I said.

Much like Peter, I was going off pure instinct. I had no idea what to do, but I knew what I wanted. I knew I wanted him, I knew I wanted to share that part of me with him, I just didn’t know how to make him want it too.

“You have to act calm. Just put one of these on, and act like he doesn’t even exist. Act like you’re wearing your normal clothes. It’ll drive him crazy,” Natasha said, bumped my arm with her elbow.

I smiled, fiddled with the strap of the bag.

“Start with the more modest stuff, and then slowly progress to the most revealing. If he makes it to the end…. Kid has restraint,”

May had gone out for the night with friends, and I knew it was time to try Natasha’s trick. Peter was lounging on the sofa, we were on the final season of Avatar. I slipped into the bedroom, pulled the bag from the back of the closet. I picked up the sheer white slip, pulled on the yellow set underneath. Once I pulled on the slip and looked in the mirror, I was taken aback. The bra was unlined, but it still gave me more cleavage than usual. The underwear was just visible through the slip, a whisper of yellow frills and lace, but it was enough. The Brazilian showed off my ass, gave it a perkier look. I let my hair down, ran my fingers through it a few times to quell the nerves. I took a breath, forced myself to walk back into the living room.

I walked around the sofa, and Peter looked up, mouth open to say something. The words died on his lips as I sat next to him.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, his eyes drawn to the yellow underneath the slip.

“Do you like it?” I asked with an innocent smile.

His hands gripped the sofa hard as he took me in, but after a second he turned his gaze back to the TV, his jaw tight. I leant against his shoulder, let the slip ride up my thigh as I linked my arm through his. His eyes were laser focused despite the rising thump of his heart. I waited, waited for him to look back at me again, for his hands to stray from my wrist. We sat in silence for a long time, and with each passing second, each untouching moment, I grew more impatient. I put my hand on his thigh, gave it a squeeze, began to move it up. His hand shot out and took mine, moved it back to his knee.

Fine, if he wasn’t going to play nicely, then neither was I.

I stood up, stretched, fanned myself as if I were hot. His eyes followed the movement, and he swallowed as I took the hem of my slip between my fingers, pulled it up over my head. I let the material drop, yanked my hair up into a pony tail as I pushed open his knees, sunk between his thighs. He looked down at me as I reached for the button on his trousers. I waited for him to stop me, but he reached out, played with the end of my ponytail as I unzipped his trousers. He lifted his hips to help me pull them down, and his erection sprung free. I swallowed hard at the size of him. I didn’t know what I had expected, but I chewed on the inside of my cheek, nervous now. I reached forward, took his length in my hand, and he let out a breath, tilted his head back against the sofa. As I moved my hand up and down, gentle at first, he let out a moan, and I felt a thrill run down my spine. That same thrill I’d felt when he’d touched himself that night over my moans. A thrill that made my confidence soar. I quickened my pace, his thoughts a roar.

_More_

I leant forward, my heart in my throat as I took him into my mouth. His breath hitched, as he lurched forward, hands in my hair as I took him in inch by inch.

“Amy,” he breathed, his voice shaking.

I smiled against him, moved up and down his length as his fingers tightened in my hair. He was breathing hard, the scream of his thoughts so loud and hot that I felt my own desire build. Heat built between my legs as he moaned. I could feel he was getting close, the tightening of his muscles, but I wasn’t finished yet. I withdrew from him, looked up at him with an innocent smile as his eyes snapped open. His gaze was so dark, so wanting, that my stomach clenched. I licked up his shaft, took only an inch of him into my mouth, teased him as I licked and sucked just enough to make his breath come hard. Then, I met his eyes, and took all of him in, deep into my throat, so deep my eyes began to water.

I watched him fall apart as he threw himself back, his back arched, his eyes squeezed closed, his face contorted in pleasure. It took two more slow, deep strokes for his hands to tighten in my hair, pull me down for more.

“Amy,” a warning this time, but I didn’t pull back.

When I took him to the back of my throat for the third time, he let out a groan and came. Hot cum poured into my mouth, and I swallowed despite the weird feel. I pulled back, looked up at him with a smile. Every nerve in my body sung, wetness pooled in my thong. He brushed a thumb against my cheek bone, pulled me up to kiss me. I moved into his lap, straddled him, and his hands found my waist. He was shaking as he deepened the kiss, still hot, still turned on. His hands moved down to my ass, and we both moaned at the contact. It was my turned to shake as he bit my lip, hooked his thumbs over the hem of my underwear. I pulled back, looked into his eyes, and we both paused. I saw the heat drain from his eyes as he sobered, his hair tousled, his lips bruised. His hands stilled, moved back to my hips. I knew from the look on his face that he didn’t want to go further. I got off of him, turned away.

“Amy please. I told you, I don’t want to rush. I know… I mean, I wasn’t thinking,” he struggled, but I couldn’t listen.

He didn’t want me. He’d let me touch him, but he thought it a mistake. I walked to the bedroom, tears stung my eyes as I climbed into bed. Peter followed me, stood in the doorway.

“Amy please,” he begged, but I didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s okay. I’m just tired,” I replied.

I faced the wall, but even so I felt him climb up the steps, settled behind me. He wrapped me up in his arms, dusted a kiss on my shoulder.

“I want our first time to be… special. Tonight was amazing, and I want you Amy,” he whispered, brushed his lips against my ear.

“Please believe me,” he begged.

I turned to face him, studied his face. There was no trace of a lie in his eyes, no trace of disgust.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Peter smiled, ran a hand through my hair. He planted a kiss on my forehead, and I nested into his chest. Despite his words, despite the kindness in his eyes, a part of me still longed to be touched, to be held and kissed and fucked. I pushed it down as he held me, and for that moment it was enough.


	18. The Trials Of One Brad Williams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - MENTION OF RAPE, COURT CASES, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS.

The air of the courthouse was damp and humid, choking in its closeness. I tapped my foot against the tiled floor anxiously as I waited for our trial to begin. Peter sat next to me, his hand firm on mine, but I felt a million miles away. Olive sat across from me, her skin sickly pale, her eyes red. She clutched a tissue in her hand so tightly it turned her knuckles white. Her mother was here, her father too. I couldn’t help but wonder what my mother was doing, if she was searching for me.

“Crammer V Williams, the judge will see you now,” an attendant called.

I stood, my hands shook, and it took all my strength not to shatter the watercooler. Peter put his arm around my shoulder, kissed my temple.

“I’m here for you,” he whispered as we walked into the courtroom.

The feel of his warmth, the safety of his arms, none of that seemed to matter as I saw him. Brad sat next to his attorneys, dressed in a three-piece Gucci suit. His hair was slicked back, and when he turned around, when his eyes locked with mine, he sneered. My hands balled at my sides as Olive and her parents sat with their attorneys, and Peter and I settled into the first row of the witness bench. Brad had witnesses too, his frat buddies, and then I saw Willow’s brother Jake, and my heart stopped.

I faltered, sat down with a thump that made the bench screech. Jake turned, his eyes fixed on me, and there was a moment where he didn’t recognise me, where his eyes narrowed, and then his jaw went slack, and I knew that he knew who I was.

“Is everything okay?” Peter whispered.

I nodded, swallowed past the bile in my throat. I couldn’t even concentrate on the judge, couldn’t concentrate when Olive gave her tearful testimony. I couldn’t think or hear or feel anything as I stared at the back of Brad’s head, as I felt Jake’s eyes on me.

“Ms. Amy,” I looked up, dazed.

Olive’s attorney was looking at me like I was an idiot as he waited, and I realised he’d been talking to me. Peter squeezed my hand as I stood. It was my turn. I walked towards the witness stand, felt the cool wood under my clammy hands. I sat down stiffly, looked out at the gathered crowds. I searched the stands for Willow, but she wasn’t here. Why would she be? Yet I had almost hoped to see her, almost hoped she would be.

“Amy, why don’t you tell us about how you know the witness and the accused?” Olive’s attorney, a short, plump woman whose name I didn’t remember, asked.

I took a steadying breath, met Peter’s eyes in the crowd. He gave me a reassuring smile, nodded for me to speak.

“I met Brad during the summer. My friend Willow and I were at her house. Her brother Jake and him are friends. He gave me his number, and we texted. He invited me to a college party, and I went. He… he put something in my drink-”

“Objection. That’s conjecture, your honour,” Brad’s attorney stood.

This man I knew by name. Lucien Hall, one of the best attorneys in the state. He’d worked with mob bosses, cut throats, men who deserved to be put behind bars. Brad’s family had money, and Lucien Hall could sniff out deep pockets from miles away. I felt myself bristle at his words, but I didn’t rise to it.

“Sustained. Continue,” the judge said.

“He got me a drink, and after a dance I felt lightheaded, I couldn’t see properly, I felt tired. He took me outside, to the pavilion on the lake. He…” I stopped as the memory rose like acid in my throat.

I could feel Peter’s eyes, willing me strength, wishing he could hold me, could tell the story for me. I felt his thoughts and a tear ran down my cheek as I continued.

“He took off my clothes, and his own. His friends were filming-”

“Objection,”

But this time I didn’t wait.

“His friends were filming as he took off his clothes and tried to rape me. I managed to pull away and I fell into the lake. I went back to his house to confront him and I saw him raping Olive. I pushed him off and took her to the hospital,” I finished.

The judge gave me a moment to breathe, before he turned to Lucien.

“To you, Mr. Hall,” the judge said.

Lucien straightened his tie, approached the bench. I recoiled from the overwhelming stench of his cologne. He leant his forearms on the wood, fixed me with a stare.

“So you went to this party willingly, yes?” I asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“And you say you texted all summer?” he asked.

The hair on my arms stuck up as I felt myself being herded into a trap. I knew he was building to something, knew I should tread carefully, but I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what he was angling for. I fisted my hands into my skirt to stop the sparks that threatened to burn him alive.

“Yes, we texted almost every day,” I replied.

Lucien smiled, turned to the jury.

“And in those texts, didn’t you express that you wanted to be physically intimate with my client?” he asked as he walked back over to his desk, drew out a file.

My cheeks grew red hot.

“‘I can’t wait to see you again. Maybe next time we can do more than watch a movie’, ‘I can’t wait to see you at the party, maybe you can show me that movie poster in your room’, ‘You’re so hot, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you’,” he read off my texts one by one, the words hung like a noose around my neck.

I was breathing hard. The jury were looking at me, waiting for me to say something. Olive was looking at me, her tear stained cheeks and red eyes harrowing under the fluorescent lights. Peter was looking at me, his eyes wide and confused and sad.

“So you expressed your intent to be intimate with my client. And is it not also true, that you told me client’s friend Jake that you once ‘got wasted off a vodka soda’?” he asked, and I found Jake’s eyes in the crowd.

He looked ashamed. His cheeks were ashen white, and when I tried to meet his gaze, he looked down.

“Yes but that’s when I was thirteen-” I began, but Lucien didn’t let me finish.

“So is it not possible that my client didn’t drug you, as you said, and that you simply got drunk, and don’t remember consenting, much like Olive? You both claim not to remember much,” he said, gestured to Olive, who was sobbing.

I stood up. My hands shook at my sides, and for the first time I saw the grin go from Brad’s face.

“His friends filmed me as he stripped me naked on the pavilion. I told him no and he continued to try and jam his dick in me. When I went to his house Olive wasn’t even conscious!” I shouted.

The judge banged his gavel down hard, called for order.

“That is enough. Sit down,” he ordered me, and I obliged.

Lucien was grinning.

“And why did you go back?” he asked.

I sat in silence. I didn’t know what to say, couldn’t tell him the truth. I got in that cab with the intention to kill him. I wanted him to feel my pain, I wanted to take from him what he had taken from me.

“I wanted to confront him about what happened. He left me to die in that lake,” I spat.

“So revenge? My client claims you hit him, and we have the doctors report to prove such,” he said as he handed each of the witnesses a file.

He gave one to me, winked. I gripped the manila paper hard as I looked down. There was bruising on Brad’s ribs from the rocks I had thrown at him. So he hadn’t told anyone about my powers. Probably for the best, if he seemed crazy, unhinged, he was less likely to win.

“I pulled him off her because he was raping her,” I said through my teeth.

Lucien shrugged.

“Bruising patterns like this come from heavy assault, not pushing. I think you were mad, and you and Olive made up all this to get back at him. My client sleeps with many women and has had many brushes with jealous girlfriends in the past. Yet he doesn’t deserve this torment. No further questions,” Lucien said as he sat down, and Brad grinned at me.

For a blinding second, I saw nothing. I felt my control slip, and I thought that I was about to lose it. I felt the world slip away from me as my powers surged up to take control. Then, a hand on mine, words in my ears.

“Come on, its okay. You’re okay, just breathe,” Peter whispered.

“Sir you cannot be up here!” The judge bellowed, but Peter took no notice.

He must have vaulted the barricade, felt the anger and pain I felt. As I got up into his arms I realised my cheeks were wet with tears. The security let him guide me from the box, back to our seats. When we sat I fell into his chest, cried and cried until my throat was sore. I didn’t listen as Lucien called up all of Brad’s friends, who gave glowing testimony. I didn’t listen as a physician read off the report from when Olive came to the hospital. Her blood alcohol levels were high, as were drugs present. Bruising around her ankles and wrists, bite marks on her thighs, all things Lucien argued were the result of BDSM. It wasn’t until the jury were sent off, and the gathered witnesses dismissed for recess, that I finally caught my breath.

“He’s going to be found innocent,” I breathed, my heart cracked in two.

“No. He won’t. He can’t,” Peter said as we moved into the hallway.

There were many people milling in the hallway, from both sides of the case, and as Peter guided me towards the vending machine, Jake approached.

“Is that really you? Amy? Where have you been?” he asked.

I stared at him with a hatred I had never felt before.

“How could you stand with him?” I hissed, lurched froward to grab him, but Peter kept his arm around me, forced me to still.

Jake hung his head, ran a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t. I mean, they asked me what you were like, how you were when you drank. Jesus Amy I only told them the truth. The last time I saw you drinking you were thirteen, I told them that too. I told them you were shy and kind and smart as well, okay?” he begged.

I felt my anger dissipate. I was too tried to argue with Jake. Tired of everything.

“Maybe you should go,” Peter said, and Jake nodded.

“You should call Willow. She misses you,” he said, before he backed off.

I sat down hard on the stone bench, stared at the floor. I wanted to curl up and die. I wanted to fall into darkness and never come out. Peter went to the vending machine to grab us a drink. I heard Brad approaching, heard his vile, abhorrent thoughts like the plague. He went up the Peter, slapped him on the back.

“Congrats man, fucking with the damaged goods has to be fun. Careful with that one, she might accuse you next, just make sure you actually fuck her first though,” Brad hissed.

I watched what happened next as if from another dimension, as if disconnected from my body. Peter’s shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Brad, who was still grinning. The rage and hatred that vibrated from every pore of his body would have been obvious to those who didn’t have my powers, but I felt it like a collar round my neck. It happened quickly, so quickly I barely saw it, but Peter mock laughed, then drew back his arm and punched Brad in the face.

A collective gasp rose from the crowd as Brad crumpled to the floor, grasping his bloodied nose. Peter looked down at him, the boy who had hurt me, who had humiliated me, and I saw the images running through his mind. Of him descending on Brad, beating his face to a pulp until he passed out. His fists tensed at his sides as he thoughts about doing it, before he let his shoulders drop.

He turned to the vending machine, picked up the two cans of coke, packs of sour patch kids and bag of lays. He looked at the contents, then looked at Brad, who still cowered on the floor. None of his friends come to help him. Peter chucked him a packet of sour patch kids.

“Don’t ever talk about my girlfriend like that again. Okay?” Peter asked in a voice I had never heard him use.

Brad nodded. The punch Peter had delivered must have been hard, because Brad didn’t try to retaliate, not even when Peter turned his back and came to sit down next to me. He held out a can to me, and I took it, still a little baffled. There was blood on his knuckles, and he wiped it carelessly on his trousers.

“Sorry you had to see that,” he said, his hands shaking.

I took his hands in mine, pressed my lips to his cheek.

“I love you,” I whispered.

Peter stared at me slack jawed. We’d never said it, not yet, but I couldn’t help it. I loved him, there was no denying that, and I refused to be afraid, not when this world was so uncertain. He kissed me, sweet and soft and full of promises.

“I love you,” he whispered into my lips.

“Crammer V Williams, return for verdict,” the attendant called.

We filed back into the room, and I gave Olive’s hand a squeeze before she sat next to her parents. The jury were waiting, their decision made. I didn’t reach into their minds, I was too afraid to look. I gripped Peter’s hand hard as a spindly elder man with a greying beard and kind green eyes stood, decision in hand.

“We the jury find the accused guilty on all charges of sexual assault and rape.” The breath went out of me in a whoosh.

Olive turned to me, her mouth open, her eyes wide. I shot up and hugged her as Brad began to protest, but it didn’t matter anymore. He was guilty. He was guilty, and there was nothing his money and parents and charm could do about it.

“We did it,” I whispered into her ear.

Olive pulled back, gripped my hands tight.

“I owe you everything,” she said through her tears.

I let my tears flow freely, and as I turned, hugged Peter, and over his shoulder I saw the goddess. She stood at the back of the room, flowers in hand, a smile on her face. Her cheeks were wet with joyous tears, and when she met my eyes I felt a love and delight that warmed me like spring sunshine.

_Nemesis. I am Nemesis, and you are Nemesis reborn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This kind of feels like an ending but I'm not sure? I had planned to take this all the way to Endgame but now I'm not sure.


End file.
